


Gnome Place Like Home

by teacass (Fushigi)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Dean, Case Fic, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, Human Castiel, Hunter Retirement, Kid Fic, M/M, Marriage, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Parenthood, Polish Mythology, Russian Mythology, Slavic mythology, Sleep Deprivation, Top Castiel, Translator Castiel, little to no angst, spncasefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-05 23:04:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6726994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fushigi/pseuds/teacass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I told you buying so much of this shit was a bad idea.”<br/>“No, you told me I was obsessed,” Cas said grumpily. “I just felt they would give our house a sense of domesticity.”<br/>“Man, we don’t need some plastic old dudes in our garden to make our house domestic. We’re kinda grossly domestic without them anyway.”<br/>--<br/>In which Dean and Cas settle down after defeating the Darkness, but then something decides that maybe they don't deserve their happy ending after all.<br/>Dean disagrees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a result of my short obsession with domestic Dean/Cas and my geeking over the Slavic mythology (which is super cool, if you ask me, although I may be slightly biased).
> 
> Biggest THANK YOU to my wonderful artist, [Jay](http://nonexistenz.tumblr.com/), who all but breathed life into my story and created so many amazing pieces of art. I was lucky to have you on my team! You already know I loved working with you. Thank you!  
>  Also big thank you to my betas, Cath and [Allison](http://archiveofourown.org/users/darcydelaney). All the remaining mistakes are my own.  
>  Finally, thank you to [Armellin](http://armellin.tumblr.com/) for some help with the Russian translations. 
> 
> This fic includes a few sentences in Polish and Russian. You can hover over the text for the English translation.
> 
> Written for the [SPN Case Fic Mini-Bang 2016](http://spncasefic.tumblr.com/).  
>  ART MASTERPOSTS: [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6628519) and [tumblr](http://nonexistenz.tumblr.com/post/144044273502)  
>  [TUMBLR POST](http://spncasefic.tumblr.com/post/144089735973/title-gnome-place-like-home-author-teacass)  
>  [Pinterest storyboard](https://pl.pinterest.com/fuszigi/gnome-place-like-home/)
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://imgur.com/P2Jc0zL)  
> 

For some reason, there was a small garden gnome lying in the middle of the path to the house. 

Dean cursed under his breath when his boot collided with the hard figurine. He dropped his duffel bag to toss the damn pointy-hatted thing aside and then cursed again, realising he’d probably crushed the flowers Cas insisted on growing on both sides of the pathway. It was too dark to inspect the damage, though, so he picked up the bag with a long-suffering sigh and trekked the rest of the way to the front door.

The hall was empty and unlit, as expected, and Dean was about to shuffle out of his jacket and boots and head upstairs when he noticed the thin beam of light coming across the living room.

Someone was in the kitchen.

Dean gave out another sigh, left his duffel on the floor, and headed into the living room. He noticed a stack of books and the open laptop on the coffee table. The thick plaid blanket was draped over the back of the couch, looking as if it had been used some time ago. The half-drunk cup of coffee was placed neatly on a plastic coaster.

Dean leaned his arm on the wooden arch between the kitchen and the living room and peered into the kitchen.

“What are you doing up?” he asked.

Castiel, fingers buried in dough, looked at him over his shoulder. Dean raised an eyebrow at him, but Cas just scoffed and looked away.

“It’s 2 a.m.,” Dean added helpfully.

“Oh, really,” Cas grunted, his wide hands still kneading the dough.

“Yeah, really.” Dean looked back at the books on the coffee table. “Work?” he asked, pointing with his thumb.

Cas didn’t answer, just glared at him and went over to the cabinet on the other side of the kitchen. He took out the pie pan and all but threw it on the table beside the dough.

“Classy,” Dean muttered. “Charlie asleep?”

“What do you think?” Cas snapped.

Dean exhaled loudly and threw his hands in the air. “I don’t know, Cas. Could you stop being all pissed and just talk to me for a minute?”

Cas’ jaw moved dangerously when he tossed the dough into the pan and turned towards Dean.

“What do you want to talk about?” he asked, voice low and raspy. Dean would probably find it hot if he wasn’t so annoyed.

“I don’t know, maybe tell me why you’re baking a friggin’ pie in the middle of the night?”

“And what was I supposed to do instead?” Cas took one small step in his direction, eyes alight and burning into Dean’s face. 

“What do you mean _instead_?” Dean frowned. “Sleep, maybe?”

Cas exhaled and turned his head away, saying nothing.

“What, Cas? I know you’re pissed at me, but it doesn’t mean you should just… not sleep. Come on, man, it’s not like it’s the first time I had a case!”

Cas looked at him then. “You haven’t had a case for a few months, Dean,” he reminded him.

Dean tried not to roll his eyes. “Yeah, so? I’ve been hunting since I was a teenager. You know that. Damn, half of the time I’ve been hunting with _you_ , so what’s the matter?”

Cas looked away again and turned to the table. “Just go to sleep.”

Dean rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Cas, for God’s sake—”

“You stink, you’re dirty, and you’ve brought mud into the house. Go clean up.”

“Okay, _Mom_ ,” Dean sneered, but he complied, turning on his heel and heading upstairs.

Cas was being ridiculous. It had just been an easy salt and burn, nothing fancy, nothing too difficult, even for his not-so-young-anymore bones. He’d found the case in the paper during lunch and he had called Cas from work, asking him to prepare his bag for when he came home. Cas hadn't done it and Dean had gotten annoyed because he had to do everything by himself. They had argued for a while (or rather, Dean had been snappy and Cas had tried to talk him out of taking the case) and then Dean had grabbed his bag and left.

But it really _had_ been an easy case. Sure, it’d taken him some time to track the remains, and then the ghost had jumped him when he’d been digging the grave (it was getting harder and harder to do it, if he was being honest with himself, his knees cracking and his back protesting with every thrust of the shovel), but he’d done it a thousand times before and survived. Well, _almost always_ survived, but still.

He was still fuming when he got to the bedroom. He left most of his clothes on the armchair by the window and headed to the ensuite to take a quick shower. It really was late and it was a weekday; he had to get up in five hours again and go to work.

Maybe he really _was_ getting too old for this… But it didn’t mean he could just ignore all the freaky accidents as if he was an ordinary citizen. He’d never been just an ordinary citizen and Cas damn well knew it.

The hot water soothed his muscles and mind a little, though, and by the time he put on his pyjama pants and an old t-shirt, he was in a much more amiable mood. The bedroom was still empty so he went out and shuffled quietly across the hall, towards Charlie’s room.

It was dark inside. Dean squinted as he moved slowly into the room, trying to see Charlie’s small form underneath his blankets.

He smiled gently when he noticed a small head with a mop of brown hair sticking out of the fluffy nest of a bed. The boy was fast asleep, face barely visible, one tiny hand curled around the edge of the pillow. Sometimes his son and Cas were too much alike: both sleeping with a whole bunch of blankets around them like some goddamn bird in its nest, both grumpy in the mornings, blaming the entire world for making them get out of bed, no matter what time it was. Dean was certain Charlie was bound to become a coffee addict as soon as he grew up, just like Cas did when he’d become human.

Dean leaned down, careful not to press his hands too hard into the mattress, and dropped a quick kiss on Charlie’s forehead. The boy’s eyelashes fluttered, but he didn’t wake up. Dean rearranged the blankets around him and straightened up, a fond smile still on his lips.

Damn, he’d gone soft for this kid.

He left the room, closing the door behind him quietly, and then came back to the bedroom. Cas still wasn’t there; he could hear the sounds coming from the kitchen downstairs and he frowned, frustrated again. He shuffled around the room for a while, doing nothing in particular, but when he yawned for the third time in a row and almost dislocated his jaw with the force of it, he finally gave up and went to bed.

A few minutes later, the noise downstairs stopped. Dean realised his eyes were open and he closed them, burrowed deeper into his pillow and waited, straining his ears for the soft padding of Cas’ feet on the stairs.

He must have fallen asleep because when he opened his eyes again, he was facing the other side of the room and the second half of the bed was still empty. Sighing, he rolled onto his back and covered his face with one arm, trying to coax his brain into sleeping again. When it didn’t work, he groaned and stood up.

When he got downstairs, the kitchen was empty and dark. He scanned the living room, illuminated with the soft moonlight falling through the wide windows. The laptop was closed and the coffee cup was gone, but the books were still there. His gaze stopped on the couch. Castiel lay there, eyes closed, a flat pillow beneath his head and a blanket covering his entire body. His fingers gripped the pillow in the same way Charlie’s had. He looked as if he was asleep, but then Dean heard a loud huff and he smiled knowingly. 

“Cas.” 

He crossed the room, leaned down, and smiled wider when he noticed an incredibly grumpy expression on Cas’ face. He reached out and patted his shoulder.

“Cas, c’mon,” he murmured. 

“What,” Cas grumbled, eyes still closed.

“Stop it,” Dean said gently. His hand brushed Cas’ dark hair, tucking the unruly locks behind his ear. “Come to bed.”

“I can’t,” Cas grunted. His eyes opened, but he kept staring at the coffee table in front of the couch. “I’m too angry to sleep in one bed with you.”

Dean smiled down at him and his fingers kept combing through Cas’ soft hair. “I don’t mind.”

“No, but I do.” Cas shifted and covered his entire head with the blanket, hiding from Dean’s hand.

Dean huffed a laugh. “You’re a child.”

“No,” came Cas’ muffled reply. He shifted again and rolled onto his back, peering up at Dean. 

Dean felt his breath catch in his throat when Cas’ deep blue gaze met his. He should have been used to it now, after all these years, but somehow Cas still managed to work his eye magic on him whenever he wanted. 

“You’ll charm me with your smiles and your eyes and your touches,” Cas said somberly and Dean felt something melt around his heart. “But I need to stay angry with you.”

“Why?” Dean asked, throat dry. His fingers itched to stroke Cas’ face again, but he resisted it for now. When Cas didn’t answer, Dean let out a breath. “Look, I’m sorry for what I said earlier, okay? For everything I said. I was in a hurry ‘cause I really wanted to get this case over with as soon as possible and you just… I didn’t mean it, okay. You’re not… unhelpful. Or useless. Cas, you _know_ I didn’t mean it.”

Cas kept looking at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable, and then he sighed and sat up, letting the blanket fall down his arms. Dean straightened, not sure what to do now.

“You’re an incredibly hot-headed man, Dean Winchester, you always have been,” Cas said finally and got up, turning to face Dean. Dean looked at him sheepishly and opened his mouth to answer, but Cas held up his hand. “I know you didn’t mean it, but I can’t help but _feel_ useless, especially when you insist on going on a case all by yourself.”

“I didn’t wanna drag you into it. It was just a quick salt and burn,” Dean said.

“A quick salt and burn that made you disappear for nine hours,” Cas said. His voice was expressionless, but Dean could see the hurt in his eyes. “I called you three times, but you didn’t answer. You didn’t call me back.”

“My… my phone died,” Dean said guiltily. “You know how it is.”

“You left me here alone with Charlie for nine hours, Dean.”

“Hey, it’s not like you don’t know how to defend yourself, right?” Dean asked timidly.

Cas shook his head and stepped back, away from him. “I wasn’t worried about me,” he said with fire in his eyes. “I was worried about my husband who could have gotten himself killed and I wouldn’t know anything about it because I don’t have my powers anymore.”

“Cas…”

“I wouldn’t be able to bring you back this time and I wouldn’t be able to sacrifice my life to get revenge for you because we have a son now and we promised we would never raise him the way your father raised you and Sam. You would be dead and I would be left alone with Charlie, all because you were too stubborn to accept my help.” Cas looked away, lips a thin line. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I _am_ useless.”

“Cas, come on. It’s been two years,” Dean pleaded.

Cas closed his eyes. “And I’d been an angel for a million times longer than that. It’s not all that easy to forget.”

“But you’ve been doing great, you know that.” Dean moved closer, slowly, aware of Cas’ every breath and every move. Cas _was_ doing great, even after everything that happened in their life. Giving up his grace again to help them defeat the Darkness couldn’t have been easy. Nothing had been easy, not really, but they had all managed to survive it, find their place in this world, and learn how to live on. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. You’re not useless, Cas, you’ve never been useless.” He closed the distance between them and caught Castiel’s hand, relieved when the man allowed the gesture. Then, when Cas finally looked at him again, he lowered his head and whispered against Cas’ cheek, “I _need_ you.”

They both knew it was one of Dean’s ways of expressing his feelings. Cas’ hand twitched in Dean’s grip and he stepped into Dean’s arms, the movement so familiar it made Dean’s eyes sting with tears.

“We agreed hunting would be of second priority,” Cas said quietly while his hand rested on Dean’s chest. “You have a family now, Dean, a family that needs you.”

“I know.” Dean’s throat was tight when he kissed Cas’ temple.

“Next time I’m going with you.”

Dean leaned back to look at him and realised Cas was already staring right back, eyes determined. He couldn’t help but chuckle quietly.

“Fine,” he murmured, moving forward again to catch Cas’ lips with his own. Cas kissed him back eagerly and Dean smiled and tightened his grip around his waist. 

“And we’re not done talking about this,” Cas said threateningly, even when his lips moved over Dean’s jaw. “I’m still mad at you.”

“Sure,” Dean said and gasped when Cas sucked his earlobe into the hot wetness of his mouth. “Y-yeah, I can see that.”

Cas pulled away and glared at him. “Go to bed. Now. It’s almost four,” he ordered.

Dean shifted awkwardly when his dick reacted to Cas’ authoritative tone with a spark of interest. Cas’ eyes moved down for a split second and he raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything.

“Uh. Okay,” Dean muttered and could feel his face flush. Seriously, even after two years of being married… “But… Are you—”

Cas sighed and held out his hand. “I hate sleeping on that couch, anyway.”

Dean laced their fingers together and tugged him towards the stairs, grinning.

Cas placed the palm of his free hand on Charlie’s closed door when they were passing through the hall and Dean’s heart sped up at the sight. Unable to stop himself, he dragged Cas inside their bedroom and took him in his arms, kissing him again, their bodies pressed closely together. Cas smiled and let Dean kiss him for some time but then freed himself from Dean’s embrace and disappeared into the bathroom.

Dean stared fondly at half-opened doors, a stupid grin on his face.

He was already in bed when Cas finally came out of the bathroom and hit the lights on his way over.

“Hey,” Dean called, face half-buried in his pillow, “what about that pie you’ve been making?”

He heard Cas’ low chuckle and then felt the bed dip when his husband lay down next to him.

“I haven’t finished it,” Cas admitted.

With his eyes closed, Dean shifted on the bed and reached out for Cas, snuggling up behind him. “But you’ll finish it tomorrow, right? For me?” he murmured.

Cas relaxed against his chest. “Only if you make me breakfast first.”

“I always make you breakfast,” Dean laughed and nosed at the hair on the back of Cas’ neck. “Are you going to the library tomorrow?”

“No, they’re fully staffed again.” Dean squeezed him tighter and Cas let out a pleased sigh. “But I don’t mind. I’ll work at home and watch over Charlie.”

Cas, being Cas, had felt that his part-time job at the local library simply wasn’t enough, so a few months ago he started dabbling in translation. He was, obviously, amazing at this, what with the knowledge of all earthly languages (and probably some of the cosmic variety, as well). 

“Mmm. You’re the best husband,” Dean mumbled sleepily.

Cas touched his hand. “Dean.”

“Mm.” Dean inhaled the smell of their shared shampoo.

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

“What? No, ’m fine. Just tired.”

“Okay.” There was a moment of silence and Dean could feel himself falling deeper into sleep, but then Cas spoke again. “Was it easy?”

“Huh?” Dean slurred.

“The case. You said it was easy.”

“Yeah. ‘Twas easy. Easy peasy.”

A beat. “Then why were you gone for nine hours?” Cas asked suspiciously.

Dean groaned loudly. “Babe, come on. I gotta get up in three hours,” he complained.

Cas didn’t answer, just rolled over in Dean’s arms and pressed his face into Dean’s neck. Dean fell asleep two minutes later with a warm hand on his hip and a soft breath against his skin.

♡♡♡

He was pulled out of sleep _again_ not an hour later when a loud cry came from the baby monitor on his nightstand. They both jumped out of bed in an instant, sending worried looks at each other and running to Charlie’s bedroom. 

Charlie stopped crying when they barrelled into the room. Dean got to his bed first and leaned down to soothe him but stopped with his hand in mid-air.

“He’s asleep,” he whispered, casting a small smile Cas’ way. “I think we panicked again.”

“It didn’t sound like a nightmare,” Cas said warily, shuffling closer. Dean stepped back and let him gently pet Charlie’s hair, warmed up again by the sight of his two favourite people in the world together. 

But then he looked around and frowned.

“What’s it doing here?” he asked and pointed to the bedside table, cluttered with Charlie’s favourite plushies and bedtime books. There, among it all, stood a plump garden gnome with a long wooden stick in its ceramic hand. “Damn it, Cas, do you really have to bring those pointy-hatted bastards into the house?”

“What?” Cas looked over at him distractedly while his hands tucked Charlie’s blankets closer around his small body. He noticed the gnome and his brows furrowed. “I didn’t bring it here.”

“Well, then who did? _Charlie_?” Dean stepped closer and inspected the figurine with narrowed eyes. The little guy was old, with a bushy beard and small eyes. His red hat was almost the size of his torso. “Geez, it’s all dirty. Looks as if someone freaking stepped on it—” He paused abruptly and took the gnome into his hands, looking at it from every side. “Uh.”

“What is it?” Cas came to stand right behind him, his chin hooked over Dean’s shoulder.

Dean chuckled quietly and put the gnome back on the table. “Not to sound paranoid, but I’m pretty sure I kicked this one on my way home just a few hours ago.”

He could almost hear Cas’ frown. “Then why is it here now?”

Dean stared defiantly into the gnome’s beady black eyes. “I have no idea.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sometimes he still dreamed about that night. 

Sam’s lifeless, bloody form slumped in the corner of the room, exactly where he’d left him after Amara’s charm stopped controlling him. Amara’s scream piercing through his ears as Lucifer tore her out of her vessel and locked Devil only knew where. Cas’ eyes staring right at him even though they didn’t look like Cas’ eyes at all. Dean, a sobbing mess with his brother’s blood on his knuckles, begging Cas to hear him, to come back to him one last time.

He woke up three minutes before his alarm, the feel of the dream Cas’ fingers still on his face, the way his whole body had crumpled to the ground in front of Dean still etched into his mind. He had cast Lucifer out with one simple “No” falling from his lips in a quiet, broken whisper.

Dean sat in bed for a moment, waiting for the remains of the dream to fade away. Cas was asleep next to him and one of his feet was touching Dean’s calf. Dean exhaled and bent down to press his lips to Cas’ cheek for a few seconds.

That night, Cas had said he had only managed to expel Lucifer because of what Dean had said to him. Dean couldn’t even remember his words, but he had kissed Cas for the first time when they had finally returned to the bunker, too exhausted, too hurt, way too starved for Cas’ touch to delay it any longer.

He turned off his alarm before it could go off and got out of bed, stumbling sleepily towards the bathroom. Between hunting, fighting with Cas, and then getting rid of the gnome from Charlie’s room, he may have gotten little more than three full hours of sleep. Considering the fact that these days he was used to sleeping for six, sometimes even up to eight hours, it was quite accurate to say that he felt like _shit_ now.

After trying—and failing miserably—to make himself look more presentable and failing miserably, he checked on Charlie and then continued downstairs in search of coffee.

It was only ten past seven, but he grabbed his phone and dialled the number anyway.

“Hello?” Sam asked. He sounded much more awake than Dean felt.

“Hi,” Dean grumbled into the speaker. 

“Oh, hi! Sorry, I didn’t look at the screen. What’s up?” 

Dean slurped his coffee and started to put together some sandwiches, too lazy to do anything more demanding. 

“Nothin’. Just checking on you. You at work?”

“Going there. You?”

“Yup, same.” Dean bit into the sandwich, effectively shutting himself up for a moment. He could feel Sam’s curiosity even through the phone, though.

“Did something happen?” Sam finally asked.

“No, why,” Dean mumbled with his mouth full.

“I don’t know, maybe because you’re calling me at 7 in the morning? You sound weird.”

“It’s nothing, man. Just had a shitty night, ‘s all.”

“Oh, right. Cas told me about the case. By the way, not cool, dude! Did you really tell him he was useless?” Sam’s shrill voice sounded louder through the speaker. 

Dean winced. “That’s not… I mean… It doesn’t matter anymore. We worked it out. Wait, did he _tattle_ on me?”

“Well, apparently _you_ weren’t answering your phone,” Sam scoffed. Dean was about to bite back, but Sam spoke first. “Anyway, how’d the case go?”

“It was okay. May the old Mr Frank rest in peace. But man, seriously, digging up graves is a pain in the ass.”

“Tell me about it,” Sam laughed. “Hey, so why are you so grouchy today if the case was okay? Did you and Cas fight?”

“We…” Dean started, then shook his head. “Nah, man, we’re good. I’m just fucking exhausted. I think I’m getting too old for this shit.”

“Yeah, I was pretty surprised you even took that case. You’ve been out of the game for what, almost five months?” Dean didn’t answer, just bit back into his sandwich. Sam must have taken the clue because he changed the subject. “How’s my favourite nephew?”

“He’s your only nephew,” Dean retorted. “And he’s fine. You still coming on Sunday?”

“Of course.” Sam visited them at least once a month, even though now they lived in Kansas and he lived at Stanford. He had come back to university a few months after they had defeated the Darkness and holed up in the bunker, somewhere around the time Dean and Cas had finally decided to make that thing between them official and Dean had gotten down on one knee. Sam had left them alone so that they could ‘experiment with that whole domesticity thing’, but had come back two weeks later for the wedding. By his next visit, they had moved to their new house on the suburbs of Newton, Kansas, and almost half a year later, he’d met Charlie for the first time. 

Sometimes Dean couldn’t believe that so much had changed in his life over the course of two years.

“I’ll make you a salad,” Dean teased, finishing his coffee.

Sam laughed. “How thoughtful of you. Alright, Dean, I gotta go. You guys hang in there, okay? Don’t make me fly over there.”

“I _am_ making you fly over here,” Dean reminded. “C’mon, Sammy, we’ve _just_ talked about this. Is your memory failing you, old man?”

“Shut up,” Sam chuckled.

“Go to work, Sasquatch,” Dean said and, after Sam said his goodbyes, he hung up. 

He was packing his lunch when Cas shuffled into the kitchen. Dean looked over his shoulder and smiled at his husband, taking in his ruffled hair and sleepy eyes. 

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he murmured and walked over to peck his cheek. “I’m guessing you don’t really want that breakfast now?”

Cas kept him by his side for a moment, kissing him properly on the lips. When he finally pulled away and looked up at Dean, his gaze was still a little hazy. “Good morning, Dean. And no, I don’t believe I do.”

Dean smiled and dove back for one more kiss. “Go back to bed, then.”

“Yeah, in a minute.” Cas combed his hand through Dean’s hair and brushed the invisible dust off Dean’s t-shirt. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Dean finished packing his lunch and grabbed his messenger bag with one hand and his car keys with the other. “Are you?”

Cas yawned. “Yes. I’m sorry you have to go to work today.” He sent Dean an apologetic look, but Dean only chuckled and came closer again.

“Someone has to support your lazy ass,” he teased and slapped Cas’ buttocks for emphasis.

Cas’ hand shot out to grab him by the collar of his t-shirt. “I _have_ a job,” he growled and pulled Dean close enough to kiss. Dean laughed again but kissed him back for a full minute.

“Okay,” he muttered. “Let me go, I’m gonna be late.”

“I really hope you’re not planning on hunting today,” Cas said, glaring at him.

“No way, I’m not suicidal. I’m all yours tonight, honey,” he said with a wink and went out of the kitchen.

“Have a nice day!” Cas called after him and Dean smiled to himself as he walked out into the early spring day.

He was still almost dead on his feet but at least he could be sure someone would be waiting for him when he came back from work. _Well, two someones, actually_ , he thought with a smile and then sent a kiss towards the window to Charlie’s bedroom.

He didn’t notice the garden gnome sitting right underneath the front door.

♡♡♡

It was Thursday, but the flow of customers was surprisingly steady since the very early hours—people trying to avoid crowds on Friday and making sure their cars were in the best shape before heading out for the weekend. Dean had hoped he could sneak out of the shop a bit earlier, but his boss was too busy with customers and Dean wasn’t sure he wanted to interrupt him. A quarter to five some guy came in for an oil change and Dean gave up any hope of finishing early

He got to his car a few minutes before six—not bad, considering the shop closed at five thirty and Dean had forgotten about filling in some of the old paperwork and had to stay behind. He considered driving to the grocery store to pick up some stuff for Sunday’s dinner but decided against it. He could do it tomorrow, or on Saturday, even.

He headed home, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, probably a bit too high on caffeine. He must have infused at least five cups today—well, six, including the one he’d drunk at home. Usually, he didn’t drink more than four, but he gathered he was entitled, especially after a night like last. 

He parked the Impala in her usual spot on the left side of the house and got out, waving to their neighbour, Ms Katushka, a smokin’ thirty-something Russian lady with blond hair down to her ass. She squinted at him from behind her picket fence, then shielded her face from the sun with her hand and waved back, sending him a dazzling smile. 

Dean was pretty sure would have gone for it just a few years back, but a lot had changed since that time. He was married now, before anything else—freakin’ _happily_ married, if he said so himself, and with a child. 

Dean turned his back to his attractive neighbour with a huge grin on his face and went straight to the front door. 

Sometimes it still sounded weird to him—Dean Winchester, the man who used to sleep in shabby motels and saved the world from the apocalypse, now living in his own house and coming home every afternoon to the arms of his loving husband. It sounded weird, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

He resisted calling out ‘honey, I’m home’ for fear of waking Charlie up, but he still felt surprisingly cheerful. It must have been all that coffee.

Or maybe, he thought upon walking into the living room, maybe it was because of _them_.

Cas was stretched on the sofa, his long legs taking up the entire length of the seat, a soft pillow underneath his lower back and a book in his hand. Cas’ favourite orange mug, the one he got when he’d started working in the library, stood on the coffee table beside the laptop. Dean could hear quiet music coming from the computer’s speakers, something Cas would probably call ‘an eclectic folk Spotify playlist’ (Dean would classify it as ‘some crappy indie shit Cas likes to listen to’ but he’d let it play anyway). On the floor, an arm’s reach from the couch, sat Charlie, surrounded by colourful alphabet blocks and big wooden puzzle pieces Dean had gotten him last week. He had a book in his lap, though, and seemed as engrossed in it as his father sitting above him.

Dean’s whole body smiled at the scene.

“Hey, guys,” he said and laughed when both Cas’ and Charlie’s heads snapped up at the same time. 

Cas sent him a smile and Charlie raised both his hands up, his book momentarily forgotten.

“Hiiii, baby,” Dean called and surged towards his son, delighted when Charlie cried out with happiness and reached out for him. Dean picked him up and hoisted him into his lap. “Whatcha doin’, Charls? You reading a book?”

“Reading a book!” Charlie repeated gleefully, pointing to the book.

Dean bounced him up and down on his knee. “Shoot, you’re such a smart boy.” Dean let Charlie pat his face with his tiny hands, then kissed one of his palms and received a giggle in return.

“Charlie,” Cas called, leaning towards them from his place on the couch. Charlie looked over at him with a smile and Cas brushed his longish brown hair from his forehead. “Tell your Daddy about the kitties in your book.”

“Kitties in book,” Charlie said, looking back at Dean. “Many kitties.”

“Awesome.” Dean grinned, then looked up at Cas and grinned some more. “Can you show me?” he asked, glancing back at his son.

Charlie fidgeted in his arms and Dean let him go, amused to see him hobble unsteadily to the book he’d left on the floor. He plopped down to the carpet and started paging through it, the thick hard pages perfect for his chubby fingers. Dean shifted forwards on his knees and placed his hands on the couch to reach Cas.

“Hi,” he murmured and pressed a kiss to his lips. 

Cas smiled down at him, curled his fingers under Dean’s chin and kissed him again, lips tender and soft.

Charlie’s shout interrupted them before they could forget themselves. Dean pulled away with a laugh and looked back at Charlie.

“Kitties, Daddy,” Charlie said stubbornly and stabbed a finger into a picture in his book.

“Wow, so many kitties. Let’s count them, okay?”

“Okay,” Charlie agreed.

“Okay.” Dean put his arms around the boy, the book in his lap, propped up on his tiny shoes. “Count with me. One kitty…”

“One kitty,” Charlie repeated and twisted his head to seek his approval.

Dean kissed his forehead. “Very good, baby. Now, here. Two kitties. Three kitties. And four, and… what’s next? Do you remember what’s next?”

“Four kitties!”

“This one was the fourth kitty, sweetie. One, two, three…” He waited until Charlie repeated everything in his slow baby talk, and then continued. “Good! Now, here’s four kitties, and then five kitties! Easy, right?”

“Right.” Charlie beamed at him.

“So, how many kitties do we have?”

His son freed himself from his embrace and looked at him sneakily. “Meow,” he answered and crawled over to close the book.

Dean laughed and shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s the right answer, honey, but okay.”

Cas’ hand touched his shoulder. “How was work?” he asked.

Dean shrugged, watching Charlie climb onto his feet and walk over to his discarded puzzles. “Fine, I guess. I’m starving, though.” He looked up at Cas excitedly. “Is the pie ready?”

Cas blinked slowly, clearly confused. “Oh. I forgot.”

Dean’s face fell. “Dude, really? That pie was the only thing keeping me awake today.”

Cas rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, it completely escaped my memory. I… I got distracted.”

Dean frowned. “What, was Charlie giving you trouble? Hey, Charlie, what did you do to your Papa?” he joked.

Charlie threw a wooden puzzle piece his way instead of answering.

“No, Charlie was an angel,” Cas said and sighed.

“Charlie angel,” the boy repeated with a grin.

Dean chuckled and tossed the puzzle to him with a wink, then looked back at Cas. “Then, what? You still tired?”

Cas shrugged one shoulder. “Not more than usual. It’s… something else.” He looked at Charlie and bit his lip thoughtfully. Dean observed him, waiting for him to finish. When he didn’t, he butted his shoulder with his head. 

“What happened?” he asked.

Cas glanced back at him and only then did Dean notice worry in his blue eyes. His stomach turned over unpleasantly.

“Let’s get you something to eat,” Cas said carefully, getting up from the couch. Dean stood up too, hand coming up to catch Cas’ as he let himself be pulled to the kitchen.

“What is it, Cas?” Dean asked, one eye on Charlie building a block tower in the living room. 

Cas took out a frozen pizza, tore off the plastic wrap, and placed it on a plate. Dean watched him, waiting patiently. Cas opened the microwave and put the plate inside, then finally turned to face Dean.

“I think something weird is going on… in our house,” he said.

Dean’s heart picked up its beat. 

“What? What do you mean?” He looked back at Charlie, still safely seated on the fluffy carpet. Then he glanced around the kitchen. “The house is warded. You know it’s warded, you helped put everything up.”

Cas shook his head. “Dean, I found another gnome today.”

Dean blinked. “A gnome.”

“Yes. A garden gnome.”

“Like the one in Charlie’s room.”

“Yes.” Cas bit his lower lip again. “It’s just very… uncanny. I didn’t put it there.”

“Hell yeah, it’s uncanny. It’s fucking _creepy_ ,” Dean breathed out. Cas silenced him with a glare, hand gesturing towards the living room, and Dean lowered his voice. “Where did you find it, anyway?”

Cas swallowed, eyes glancing to the right. Dean followed his gaze and frowned. 

“Well?”

“It was in the fridge,” Cas said gravelly. “On the side shelf, right beside the milk.”

“What the fuck,” Dean cursed again. “Okay, since when do garden gnomes break into houses?”

Cas shook his head. “I don’t know, Dean. I have never heard of such behaviour. They’re usually quite a peaceful race.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Huh? _Race_? What are you talking about, those are just freakin’ ceramic little, like, dolls, or something. They’re not alive. They shouldn’t be alive.”

“Well, yes, garden gnomes are usually just an ornamentation,” Cas said quietly, as if afraid Charlie would hear them, “but they were inspired by real gnomes. Or dwarfs, actually. They used to live underground, guarding their treasure and crafting…”

“Wait,” Dean interrupted, raising his hand. “Are you saying leprechauns are real?”

Cas frowned and nodded.

“I’ll be damned,” Dean said. “But hey, I guess that makes sense. Fairies are real, so why shouldn’t freaking Gimlis be real, too?”

“Exactly.” The microwave pinged loudly and Cas turned to retrieve the pizza. “What I don’t understand is why they are acting up now.”

“Ugh,” Dean groaned, coming closer to watch Cas spread tomato sauce on the pizza. “And what the hell do they want from us? Where did you put it, anyway?”

“I carried it out to the garden.” Cas sliced the pizza and pushed the plate towards Dean. “I’m so sorry about the pie.”

“Forget it,” Dean mumbled around the first bite. “Pizza’s fine.” He swallowed, aware that Cas’ wide eyes never left his face. “But, uh, Cas. We gotta like… get rid of them. The gnomes, I mean. I told you buying so much of this shit was a bad idea.”

“No, you told me I was obsessed,” Cas said grumpily. “I just felt they would give our house a sense of domesticity.”

“Man, we don’t need some old plastic dudes in our garden to make our house domestic.” Dean stuffed his face with more pizza and tried saying something else, but it just came out like a sort of unintelligible babble that Charlie used sometimes. Cas sent him a fond look, waiting patiently as Dean swallowed and repeated, “I said, we’re kinda grossly domestic without them anyway.”

Cas bit back a smile. “Yes, I guess we are.”

Dean chuckled and leaned towards him to plant a salty kiss on his lips. 

“So. The gnomes are out, okay?” he said when he straightened up. “Let’s just… lock them in the shed for now and see what happens. I mean, they’re just like, what, ten inches high? They won’t get out of there, and if they do… well, I’m not gonna be scared of a friggin’ dwarf.”

Cas laughed quietly and stole a slice of pizza from Dean’s plate. 

♡♡♡

Dean sighed into the small pillow (the one with the grey French linen case embroidered with actual _bees_ , because Cas was dorky enough to buy three of them on eBay last year). The couch wasn’t exactly what he’d call a comfortable place to sleep on, but he was so tired that he expected he could probably drop off without noticing. He tried feeling bad for Cas—it was his turn to give Charlie a bath tonight—but then his eyelids slid shut and he drifted off again.

To be honest, he wasn’t even ashamed that he was ready to go to bed at 7. There was no one to tease him about it, not even Cas, who had been quite enthusiastic about Dean’s suggestion of burying himself in bed earlier if his tired eyes were anything to go by. 

Dean started thinking that, well, they probably wouldn’t go to _sleep_ right after getting into bed, but then those thoughts slipped out of his mind again.

He was suddenly woken up by a warm heaviness that settled over his side. He opened his eyes and tilted his head to look blearily at Cas.

“Blegh,” he murmured, smacking his lips a few times. He honestly hadn’t intended to fall asleep, knowing it would leave him even groggier than before. He tried squirming from underneath Cas and turning over to lie on his back instead of his belly, but Cas pressed more intently into his body.

He didn’t say anything, just pushed his face into the back of Dean’s neck, lips hot and wet on his skin.

“Mhm,” Dean hummed happily, easing back into the couch. “How’d the bath go?”

“There was a foam mishap,” Cas murmured against his ear. “But at least he didn’t cry this time.”

“Awesome,” Dean said sleepily. “We’re getting better at this.”

Cas chuckled lowly, moving his body so that he was now straddling Dean’s lower back. “I certainly hope so, it’s been a year.”

“A year and twenty-three days,” Dean corrected confidently. 

Cas breathed hotly into his ear, draping himself all over Dean’s body. “And he’s going to be twenty months and fifteen days old tomorrow,” he said, proving Dean wasn’t the only one keeping track of things.

Dean laughed into the pillow. “We’re kind of lame, you know that?”

“I love being lame with you,” Cas hummed, rocking softly against the swell of Dean’s ass. 

“Yeah,” Dean breathed out slowly. “Me, too. Let me turn over.” 

He tried shifting underneath Cas’ weight, but Cas wouldn’t budge, pressing into him instead. Dean felt his half-hard erection against the small of his back and he exhaled again, a bit more shakily this time.

“Oh. Okay,” he murmured. “We’re doing it this way.”

“Just relax,” Cas whispered, breath warm over his cheek. “I think I’m too tired anyway.”

Dean shut his eyes and smiled slightly, enjoying Cas’ little kisses on the back of his neck and the gentle way his hips rolled against his back.

“Unless you really want to,” Cas murmured, mouth so, so sweet and warm. His hands moved, one of them tangling into Dean’s hair and the other sliding slowly up and down Dean’s bare arm, a movement too gentle to excite, but just enough to warm Dean from the inside out.

“Can’t believe I’m saying this,” he muttered, “but I think I’m beat, too.”

Cas’ long sigh tickled the hair on the back of Dean’s neck. “Should we go upstairs, then?”

“Mhm, in a minute.”

They lay like that for a bit more than a minute, actually, Dean basking in Cas’ body heat and Cas a dead, unmoving weight on top of him, slowly breathing in and out against the crook of his neck. After a while, though, Dean felt his right arm, squished underneath both his and Cas’ bodies, starting to tingle all over and he wriggled a bit. Cas yawned and rolled over, but he did it in the wrong direction and pressed himself against the back of the couch instead of getting up. Dean grunted and shifted, too, rolling so that now he lay on the edge, facing Cas.

“You said something about going upstairs?” he joked.

Cas, eyes closed and a small smile on his lips, shuffled closer and tucked himself under Dean’s chin. “Don’t remember.”

“Filthy liar,” Dean chuckled and dropped a kiss to the top of his husband’s head. 

Instead of answering, Cas put his arm around Dean’s waist and snuggled even closer. 

Dean laughed again. “Babe,” he whispered and combed his fingers through Cas’ dark hair. “Come on. Our bed is so much better. We can watch a movie?”

Cas lay still for half a minute longer, but then moved again, warm hand on Dean’s hip just beneath his T-shirt and his lips once more on Dean’s neck. He kissed up, over Dean’s throat and jaw, until his lips finally found Dean’s waiting mouth and caught it in a lazy kiss.

They pulled away after some time, panting, legs tangled, hands gripping each other’s hips. Dean’s breath got stuck in his throat at the sign of Cas—his horribly dishevelled hair, spit-slick reddened lips, extraordinarily blue eyes shining. 

Damn, he was so fucking lucky.

He must have said it out loud because Cas smiled—wide, overjoyed, just for him—and then leaned in to kiss him again. 

Two minutes later, Dean moaned and pulled back. Cas had his thigh in between Dean’s legs and a new red mark on his collarbone. 

“Damn it, Cas, stop making out with me,” he complained, too lovestruck to even try to contain his grin.

“As you wish,” Cas said and grinned back.

“Can we go to bed now?”

“Can we make out some more in bed?”

Dean rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “I thought we were supposed to watch a movie,” he said.

“We can watch a movie _and_ make out,” Cas suggested.

The thought was too appealing for Dean to put up an act anymore. 

“I married a genius, didn’t I,” he said, grinning, and then pulled them both off the couch and up the stairs.

♡♡♡

The first thing Dean heard when he woke up was a loud whirring sound coming from somewhere right above him.

The second thing that he realised was that he couldn’t move.

His body was still, eyes closed, breathing shallow. The whirring sounded louder, accompanied by a prolonged creak, similar to the one old doors make. The squeak pierced through the air again, and again, and again, now intermingled with the whirring.

Dean’s breath almost stuck in his throat when he felt something heavy move on his chest, as if leaning down into his face. He wanted to open his eyes and make sure that there was nothing there, that it was just his imagination, but he couldn’t force any of his muscles to move even an inch. Something tickled his face, something delicate and light as a feather, but he couldn’t even grimace. The only muscle that still seemed to operate in his body was his heart, now beating out an insane rhythm against his ribs.

The squeaking sounded right by his ear and he felt a dry, cold breath on his cheek. His heart jumped to his throat.

And then, just when it felt as if his body was falling, the sensation stopped. He blinked and opened his eyes slowly. The only thing that suggested anything had happened at all was his quickened pulse and the sweat gathered on his face.

He lay still for a long moment, wiggling his fingers and toes and taking deep breaths to calm himself. In the thirty-nine years of his life, nothing like this had ever happened, and he would be lying if he said it hadn’t scared the shit out of him.

He shifted on the bed just to be certain he really could move again, and then turned his head. Cas was asleep on his left, curled around the comforter with one hand resting on the mattress between their bodies. Dean moved his head to the other side to glance around the room and almost screamed when he saw the garden gnome sitting on his bedside table.

[ ](http://imgur.com/ByEEqw4)


	3. Chapter 3

“Dean?” Cas mumbled as Dean shook him awake. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a… I’ve just… F-fuck,” Dean stammered and glanced back at the gnome. The light coming from the street lamp outside the window gleamed on the figurine’s smooth surface. Its small eyes shined ominously.

Cas was fully awake within a few seconds. He sat up in bed, prying Dean’s fingers off his shoulder and taking his hand into his instead. When Dean looked back at him, Cas’ blue eyes were glued to the gnome.

“We locked them in the shed,” Cas said, voice calm. 

“I know. Fuck,” Dean cursed again. He knew he was shaking but he couldn’t stop it, not when the creature’s eyes still bored straight into his face. “Cas, I… It just…”

“Dean.” Cas let go of his hand and stood up so suddenly that Dean could only yelp in surprise. “I’ll go check on Charlie.”

“Wh-what am I supposed to do?” Dean hated the way his voice trembled. He was a grown-ass hunter, he wasn’t supposed to be scared—not because of some creepy fake dwarf—but the sensations of the paralysis and the total powerlessness of his body were still too real, too tangible.

Cas looked at him, face worried, and then hurried to Charlie’s room. Dean’s eyes didn’t leave the gnome even for a second, too afraid to let it out of his sight. 

“What the fuck,” he mumbled to himself, trying to calm down again. “The fuck do you want, you ugly, creepy son of a bitch? _What_ are you?” 

The gnome didn’t answer, it didn’t even twitch. Dean kept staring at it, though, his heart rate slowing down with every breath. Cas came back to the bedroom a few moments later with a very groggy Charlie in his arms. 

“Here, take him,” Cas muttered and neared the bed. 

Dean took his son, shushing him with gentle strokes of his hand down Charlie’s back. 

“Sorry, baby,” he cooed into his hair. “So sorry. Go back to sleep.” He looked up in time to see Cas reaching out for the gnome. “Hey! What the fuck are you doing?!”

Cas glared at him. “Language, Dean!” he whispered vehemently.

“Do not fucking touch it, Cas,” Dean warned, ignoring his husband’s admonishment.

Cas grabbed the gnome and brought it closer to his face to inspect it. Dean wanted to leap out of bed and tear it out of his hands, but Charlie was almost asleep in his arms, so instead he just hissed, “Dude!”

“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas said quietly. The gnome stayed frozen in his hands and Dean let himself relax, just a little bit. “I don’t remember putting this one into the shed. It must have stayed behind.” He looked back at Dean. “That’s good. I was afraid it meant they could get out of the shed by themselves, but I think they’re still in there, all except for this one.”

“That’s _good_?” Dean asked incredulously. “It’s still means they can freaking _move_ , Cas!”

“Maybe they can move only when we can’t see…” his husband mused, eyes back on the gnome.

“I don’t care. I just wanna know how to get rid of them,” Dean growled. 

Charlie fussed sleepily in his arms and Dean tightened his grip on him. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his small head, muttering some calming nonsense.

When he looked up again, Cas had a determined look on his face. 

“I’m going to go outside and put it with the rest of them,” he said and gestured to the gnome.

“What?” Dean asked, voice as quiet as possible. “No way, Cas. You’re not going there alone.”

“They’re harmless now, Dean, look…”

“You don’t know that, Cas. I’m pretty sure they’re not _that_ harmless.” Dean swallowed and looked away. Cas didn’t say anything, but when Dean glanced back at him, there was a question on his face. “I woke up and I couldn’t move. It must’ve lasted for like, five minutes or something. I swear, Cas, it wasn’t a dream, there was something, like, sitting on my chest and—and I could hear t-that awful sound and the breathing and—”

“You think it was the gnome?” Cas asked, considerably less calm now. Dean would be proud if he weren’t feeling so vulnerable at the moment. Cas, the gnome still in his hand, sat down at the edge of the bed and touched Dean’s arm reassuringly.

“Well, I woke up and the fucker was here,” Dean muttered, eyes never leaving the figurine. 

“Alright, then.” Cas put the gnome down on the floor. “We’ll lock it in the shed tomorrow. Then we’ll find information about them. I’m sure there’ll be something on the Internet.”

“So, what, we just leave it here?” Dean pointed to the creature standing in the middle of the room.

“Do you have any other idea?” Cas asked. “You’re not going out alone, either, and we can’t both go without endangering Charlie.”

Dean moved and pressed their son into Cas’ waiting hands. “I have an idea,” he grunted and got out of bed.

Trying to calm his racing heart, he leaned down and grabbed the gnome by its red hat. It was different from the one they’d found in Charlie’s bed, a bit shorter, its beard lighter and its red hat angled to the side. It didn’t react when Dean touched it, so he took a deep breath and went out of the bedroom.

“Dean?” Cas called after him, confusion clear in his voice.

Dean ignored him and went over to the window right across the hall. With the gnome under his arm, he quickly threw the window open and, without any hesitation, tossed the creature down onto the concrete.

He watched as it smashed to the ground, the debris flying out in every direction, probably messing up their front yard and Cas’ small garden, but he couldn’t care less. 

“If any of you come back,” he growled, “I’m gonna take a fucking hammer to your fucking heads.”

When he closed the window and came back to the bedroom, locking the door behind him, Cas was still sitting on the bed just where he’d left him, his eyes wide and lips pulled into a thin line. 

“Dean,” he said, not an admonition, but not praise, either. He just said it, as if Dean could understand what he meant.

He was pretty sure he could, after all these years.

“Sorry. I really needed it. You know I needed it.”

“I know.” Cas moved and put Charlie down in the middle of the bed, then looked up at Dean. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

They both buried themselves in the covers, Charlie fast asleep between them. Cas reached out a hand and took one of Dean’s. 

“Are you okay?”

Dean exhaled and closed his eyes, but then opened them again. “Yeah. I mean. I think I am.”

“Can you sleep?” Cas asked, blue eyes big and full of worry. Dean wanted to pull him close but he didn’t want to wake Charlie, so he just squeezed his hand tighter and smiled.

“I can try.”

♡♡♡

Dean didn’t sleep a wink.

His back was turned to the door and the bedside table and he had to look over his shoulder every five minutes to reassure himself there was nothing there. Cas kept him company for most of the time, too, drifting in and out of slumber, signs of apprehension in the creases of his handsome face.

When it got light outside, Dean went down to get coffee. Cas followed him with his tired eyes but didn’t say anything, even when Dean took his gun out of the last drawer of the bedside table. The house was empty and quiet, but he felt safer with the weapon in his hand. He took two big cups of coffee and the laptop up from the living room and crawled back into bed.

“Thank you,” Cas muttered and promptly yawned into his mug. 

Dean leaned over the still sleeping Charlie and kissed his cheek. “Sorry for keeping you up,” he mumbled.

“Don’t be.” Cas glanced at him. “We just need to find some answers and then we’ll sleep. It’s not the first time we’re dealing with a monster.”

Dean fired up the laptop, sipping at his coffee. “I’m gonna call in sick today.”

“Me, too,” Cas said automatically. Dean wanted to tell him he didn’t have to, he’d deal with it alone, but one look at Cas’ tired face was enough to give up. “So, what’s the plan?” 

“We search the lore. Maybe the Internet will do, but if not, maybe we can find something in our books,” Dean said, eyes glued to the screen as he typed ‘creepy garden gnomes’ into Google.

“If this proves unsuccessful, we can go to the library, see if they have anything on the topic,” Cas suggested.

“You can’t go to the library, you’re supposed to be sick and unable to work,” Dean said.

Cas huffed. “They don’t need me there when I’m free, but the one day I need to stay at home, they’re short-staff. You know, I’ve actually been considering giving in my notice and concentrating only on translation.”

“Mhm,” Dean said, too absorbed in his reading to pay attention to his words. Cas seemed to understand because he stopped talking for the next few minutes.

“Have you found anything?” he finally asked.

Dean typed a different combination of words into the search box. 

“There’s just… a bunch of random information. Zombie gnomes for sale. Stupid videos with evil gnomes attacking some police officers. Ugh, it doesn’t even _look_ real.”

“Have you tried something about walking gnomes?” Cas asked.

Dean did, then groaned. “More zombies. Something about, uh, The Sims? What the hell is that?”

Cas squinted at him over the edge of his mug. “I think it’s a computer game. You create virtual families and build houses for them. It’s supposed to be very addictive.”

Dean blinked, then shook his head. “Whatever. Apparently there are gnomes in there, but I’m not gonna touch _that_ with a ten foot pole.”

“I think we should consult the books,” Cas sighed.

Dean closed the laptop and pushed it away. “Yeah. Or we can go into the shed and try to get some answers straight from the source.”

Cas frowned. “Do you think they will answer us? They don’t even look alive.”

“We’ll think of something.” Dean finished his coffee, put the mug on the top of the nightstand, and sank back into the bed. Now that it was daylight, the whole situation looked ridiculous and not scary at all. Thinking about the weird paralysing feeling made him wonder if it had even happened at all.

But he wouldn’t be a hunter if he let it slide just like that.

“Let’s just wait till Charlie wakes up, get some breakfast, and then show those creepy fuckers who we really are.”

♡♡♡

Dean spotted Ms Katushka on her porch and waved to her, smiling. Cas threw him a curious glance but followed after him, Charlie sitting happily in his arms.

“Hi, Ms K,” Dean called over as they neared the fence between their properties. 

Their neighbour walked over as well, a kind smile on her pale face. “Hello,” she said with a strong Russian accent. “What a beautiful day we have today, right?”

Dean looked around, noticing the sun and the clear blue sky for the first time. “Ah, yeah, right. Very nice.” He looked back at the woman and smiled sheepishly. “Hey, we kind of have a favour to ask.”

Ms Katushka tilted her head curiously, long blond hair swung over her shoulder. “Yes?”

Dean stepped over to Cas and took Charlie out of his hands. “Would you mind watching him for a little while?”

“Dean,” Cas called from behind him as Dean reached out his arms towards the woman.

Dean ignored him for now. “We need, like, half an hour, tops. And I don’t mean full-on babysitting mode, though of course we can pay you, but just… Sit with him for a while? Or give him a toy and keep an eye on him.”

Ms Katushka took Charlie from him over the fence, a slight grimace flashing over her beautiful face, probably because soon enough Charlie noticed he was being handed over and started wriggling violently.

“Charlie, hey,” Dean called to him. “See? We’re still here. We’re gonna be here all the time and Ms K. is just going to look after you while me and Papa check something, okay?”

Charlie pursed his lips, tears welling up in his wide brown eyes. He looked up at the woman that was holding him and whimpered.

“Shhh, baby.” Dean leaned over the fence and dropped a kiss to the boy’s cheek. Charlie reached out for him, lower lip trembling. “Give us fifteen minutes, sweetie. It’s really important for me and Papa.”

“Don’t go,” Charlie whined.

“We’re not going anywhere.” Dean mussed up his hair. “We’re just… we’re making a surprise for you! And we’ll be in that shed over there, okay? You can just call out and we’ll answer, okay?”

“Okay.” Charlie sniffed, looking a little bit less sad. 

“And you know what? Ms K. has a kitty!” Dean looked up at the woman and was a little taken aback seeing a grim glint in her pale blue eyes. It vanished as soon as she looked back at him, though. Dean ignored it and smiled at her. “You think she’s gonna let you play with it?” Dean asked his son.

“I like kitties!” Charlie exclaimed cheerfully, twisting his head to look up at their neighbour. 

“I’m sure _Tochka_ will love to play with you, _malenkiy_ ,” she said fondly, smoothing down Charlie’s hair.

Dean chuckled. “Cute. Thanks so much. I promise, we won’t take long.”

“Of course, Mr Winchester. Take all the time you want.”

Dean looked over his shoulder just in time to see Cas walking out of the house, a stuffed teddy under his arm and a box of toy cars in his hands. He must have left to get them for Charlie when Dean was too busy calming him down.

“Look what Papa got you,” Dean cheered, smiling at Charlie over the fence.

“Mr Teddy missed you,” Cas said and handed the plushie to the boy. “Will you be nice to Ms Katushka, honeybee?”

“Yes, Papa.” Charlie beamed at him, half of his face hidden in his stuffed bear. “Kitty is here!”

“Oh, that’s great, Charlie,” Cas said with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”

Cas gave Ms Katushka the box of cars and they both nodded at her, waved to Charlie, and turned away. 

“Kitty?” Dean heard Charlie ask and looked back, glad to see their neighbour swaying their son slightly in her arms and heading towards her porch again.

“Okay, let’s get it over with,” Dean said.

Cas just nodded. 

They went over to the shed and Cas wrapped his fingers around the handle. 

“Wait,” Dean said. He jogged towards the house and came back with a hammer in his hand. “Okay, now I’m ready.”

Cas took a breath and opened the door.

A gnome fell out of the shed and almost crushed Cas’ foot. Dean made a quiet noise of disgust (because he would refuse to call it a squeak even on his deathbed) and jumped back, the hammer pointed at the open door.

“Okay,” he said carefully, eyeing the small tower made of garden gnomes standing right at the threshold of the shed. “I think it’s safe to say they really _do_ move.”

Cas bent down and grabbed the one lying at his feet, bringing it to his face. “They were trying to get out.”

“Well.” Dean swallowed. “I say we just smash them to pieces and call it a day.”

“I thought you wanted to interrogate them,” Cas said, looking back at him with a frown.

“I kinda wanna bury them underground, too, though.” Dean stepped closer and kicked the tower made of gnomes square in one of the figurines’ faces. Cas didn’t even try protesting, just went inside after Dean, the other gnome still in his hands. “Close the door. I don’t want them out.”

Cas did and flicked the light on, one bare bulb swaying slowly underneath the low ceiling. They both had to slouch a little to be able to fit inside.

“Okay, so how do we—”

“Dean,” Cas interrupted, his voice quiet. “Look at their faces.”

Dean blinked, surprised, but then looked around, eyes scanning the gnomes lying or standing on the ground. There were fifteen of them, all with bright red hats and long beards, but now Dean could also see the way their bushy eyebrows furrowed and their lips were pressed into thin angry lines.

He was pretty sure at least some of them had been smiling last time he’d seen them.

“So they can change their faces,” he said, trying to sound calm despite the tight knot in his stomach. “Whatever.”

“They look very… exasperated,” Cas noted, holding the gnome close to his face, eyes squinting in the faint light. 

“Yeah, we locked them in here, so I guess it pissed them off.” He reached over and ripped the gnome out of Cas’ hands. “So here’s how we’re gonna do it, you bastards. You’re gonna tell us what you want from us and then maybe we’ll spare your empty heads from the hammer.”

He could feel Cas’ eyes on him, as well as the eyes of at least some of the gnomes, but no one made any sound. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck were standing on edge just from being in one place with those creepy sons of bitches, but he was determined not to let it show, even to Cas. 

“I don’t think they can answer you while we’re still here,” Cas suggested after a moment. “Maybe we can try asking them through the closed door.”

“That’s stupid.” Dean grunted. “They’re not toys, Cas.”

“What do toys have to do with any of this?” Cas’ brows furrowed.

“Kids believe their toys come to life when they’re asleep or away from home.”

“They are like toys, in a way.” Cas shrugged. “Maybe it’s worth a try.”

Dean was silent for a moment, staring down at the gnome in his hand. It wouldn’t even blink and the expression of its face still hadn’t changed. He lowered it down on the ground then, raised his hammer, and before Cas could stop him, brought it down on the gnome’s head.

Cas’ sigh was audible despite the loud crash. “Do you think it will help?” he asked, voice flat.

Dean shot him an angry look. “No, but I feel better already. Which one do you think I should break next?”

Cas pressed his lips into a thin line. “None. Wait here, I think I may have a better idea.”

“What?” Dean called, watching him walk out of the shed. “Are you just gonna leave me here with them?”

“You seem to be more than capable of defending yourself, Dean,” Cas teased without looking back. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Dean closed the doors again and turned back to stare at the unmoving gnomes. Just to feel a bit better, he walked around and kicked all of them so that they were lying down on their bellies, faces buried in the dirty ground. Then he stood by the door, the hammer still in his hands, ears straining to hear anything.

Cas came back just a moment later, the baby monitor in one hand and the rope in the other.

“What the hell?” Dean asked, confused.

Cas handed him the rope. “We need to tie them up, just to be sure they won’t try to escape again while we search the lore and think of our next move.”

“But Cas—”

Cas levelled him with a glare. “We can’t sit here all day to watch them, Dean.”

Dean didn’t answer, just untangled the rope and started tying it around the gnomes’ round bodies, consequently joining all of them in a one large knot. 

“Why do you need Charlie’s monitor?” he asked while he worked.

Cas was looking around the shed, probably finding a place to put the monitor. “I’m pretty sure you know what it’s for. I’d prefer not to say it out loud. I don’t want them to hear.”

Dean smiled suddenly, realising Cas’ plan, then finished tying the gnomes and stood up. “I don’t think I deserve you, you know that?”

“Shut up, Winchester,” Cas replied, but Dean could see a smirk on his handsome face. He finally chose a place by the window to hide the monitor and then he joined Dean by the door. 

“You’re one to talk, _Winchester_ ,” he teased back and elbowed Cas in the ribs. 

They sent one last look at the gnomes on the ground and then left the shed, carefully locking the door behind them. Dean took an opportunity to lean in and peck Cas on the lips, just because he could, but it didn’t seem Cas had any objections. 

Dean left the hammer by the shed, just in case, and then they walked over to the fence. Charlie was sitting on the grass in the middle of their neighbour’s front yard, a small grey kitten jumping around his legs. Dean smiled when he heard his son’s gleeful laugh. Ms Katushka was standing right beside them, eyes closely following the cat.

“Ms K!” Dean called and both the woman and Charlie looked up. Dean waved. “Hi, Charls! We’re back!”

“That was quick,” Ms Katushka said, leaning down to take Charlie into her arms. She walked over to them while Charlie looked down, calling after the cat.

“My husband’s kind of a genius,” Dean said with a grin. 

The woman smiled a closed-mouth smile. “I see. You don’t need me anymore, then?” she asked calmly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean nodded and laughed. “I mean, no, we don’t. Thanks so much, Ms K, we owe you one.”

She raised one eyebrow at him, still smiling. “I never understood what you Americans mean when you say that,” she said. 

Dean’s eyes were drawn momentarily to a small necklace she had around her neck, and the way Charlie tried to play with it before she carefully pried it out of his hands. Then he shrugged. 

“If you ever need a favour, just ask,” he explained. 

“Maybe we can invite you to dinner one day,” Cas said, eyes squinting against the sun.

“Maybe,” Ms Katushka said, and then seemed to realise she still was holding Charlie. She came closer to the fence and put him right into Dean’s waiting arms. 

“Thanks again,” Dean murmured, pressing his lips to Charlie’s head.

“You are welcome,” she said and turned away without another smile. 

Dean looked at Cas and shrugged again before turning on his heel and heading towards the house.

“Where’s kitty?” Charlie asked.

“Kitty’s going home now,” Dean explained. “And so are we. Are you hungry, Charls? ‘Cause I think I could eat a horse, I’m so hungry!”

“Eat a kitty!” Charlie exclaimed.

“Charlie! I’m not gonna eat a kitty! Cas, tell him we can’t eat kitties.”

“Kitties are our friends, Charlie. We’ll make you a delicious porridge and then we’re gonna read a new book, okay?”

Before Dean stepped inside the house, he looked back at the shed one last time. Somehow, it really didn’t seem as if it contained a bunch of creepy monsters inside.

♡♡♡

Dean yawned into his coffee. He felt rather than heard Cas walking into the kitchen.

“Find anything?” he asked, taking a sip of his bitter drink.

Cas put a warm hand on Dean’s lower back and leaned into him. “No. But Charlie fell asleep.”

“Lucky kid,” Dean muttered. He looked over his shoulder. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please,” Cas grumbled, hands pawing at his empty mug. Dean filled it and added two lumps of sugar, no milk. Cas pressed himself against Dean’s arm and kissed him sweetly on the lips. “Thank you,” he hummed.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Dean didn’t let him pull away, cupping his face with his hands and kissing him again.

They had been sitting at home for a few hours, various books lying all over the living room, none with answers to their gnome problem. Charlie had sat with them in the middle of the carpet, surrounded by his toys and blankets. Some time ago they’d noticed his eyes were getting more blurry and his head heavier and they had moved him to the couch. They had taken turns reading him a story and then Dean had decided he needed more coffee, again.

The other baby monitor had stayed quiet on the coffee table for the whole morning.

“Dean, I want to drink my coffee,” Cas laughed against his lips.

“Go on, then,” Dean said, breaking apart. He watched Cas as Cas watched him over the edge of his cup, then put his hands on Cas’ hips and dragged him closer, so that he was pressed with his back against the cupboard and with Dean’s body locking him in place. Cas chuckled again, took one more sip of the coffee, and put it down beside them.

Dean leaned in and caught Cas’ lips with his own, delighted when Cas opened up for him so easily. He could feel his sweet coffee on his tongue and he licked against it more forcefully, arms working so that he could hoist Cas up and help him get seated on the counter. Cas hummed excitedly against his lips, legs coming around Dean’s hips and pulling him closer.

Cas’ fingers tangled into Dean’s hair and he pulled, tilting Dean’s head and kissing him even deeper, their breaths never escaping their mouths, the taste of coffee long forgotten. They pulled apart for a few seconds, panting, their lips reddened and glistening with saliva. Dean moved closer, licked Cas’ lip teasingly, one hand moving from his hip to the front of his jeans. Cas gasped hotly into his mouth.

“Charlie’s on the couch,” he stuttered, fingers tightening in Dean’s hair.

“Charlie’s asleep,” Dean answered and purred happily when he felt Cas’ hips pressing into his hand.

“Okay,” Cas breathed out.

Dean moved his lips over Cas’ jaw, dropping small kisses on his skin. Cas tilted his head back, neck exposed, inviting Dean to take more. 

“I want you,” Dean murmured into Cas’ ear, teeth catching on the sensitive skin.

“You’ve got me,” Cas said and a sigh escaped his lips when Dean bit into the skin on his neck, only to lap over it with his tongue a second later. 

Dean rubbed his hand against the strained fabric of Cas’ jeans and was rewarded with a loud moan and a small jerk of his hips.

“Dean,” Cas whispered, dropping his forehead on Dean’s shoulder. Dean just continued kissing his neck and palming him through his pants, his own erection growing harder and harder with his husband’s breathy moans. “Dean, please—”

And then, suddenly, a quiet sound came from the living room and they both froze.

For a second, Dean thought Charlie had woken up and started talking to himself, but then he heard a second voice, much lower than any child should ever use.

Cas straightened up and looked down at him. His eyes were dark and his pupils lust-blown, but there was a spark of sobriety in them, too.

“The monitor,” he said and pushed at Dean’s shoulders. 

“Gnomes?” he asked and caught Cas around the waist to help him hop down from the cupboard. 

Cas just nodded, caught his hand, and dragged him to the living room.

Dean felt dizzy—whether from Cas’ kisses, the lack of sleep, or the sudden turn of events, he didn’t know.

They knelt on the carpet in front of the coffee table. Dean pushed aside some of Charlie’s toys, looking back at his sleeping form while Cas played with the volume knob. The voices got considerably louder, but Dean still heard a lot of hissing and chirping instead of actual words.

“I can’t understand anything,” he complained, glancing at Cas.

Cas shushed him, eyes glued to the ceiling as he concentrated on listening to the voices. Dean fidgeted for a moment, impatient.

“Well? What is it? Are they talking?” he asked finally.

Cas nodded, eyes back to the speaker. “They’re not using English.”

“I figured,” Dean muttered. “What, then?”

“I’m… I’m pretty sure it’s Polish. Although I may be a little rusty on my languages.”

“Polish?” Dean blinked. “Awesome. We have Polish gnomes in our shed. What are they talking about? Stealing cars?”

Cas didn’t even look at him. “Stop talking and maybe I’ll be able to understand more.”

Dean sighed but shut up, fingers drumming on his knees while he waited.

“They all keep talking at the same time,” Cas complained. “It seems they are arguing. _Wait. Stop pushing me. Move the other way. I can’t reach it._ ”

It took Dean a few seconds before he realised Cas was translating and not just talking nonsense.

“They’re trying to free themselves,” Dean said, ready to stand up.

Cas reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “ _What do we do now? I can’t believe they killed him._ _First… First Bo… Boleslaw._ ” Cas paused, brows pulling closer. He wrinkled his nose and looked at Dean. “Those are Polish names. I don’t remember all their English equivalents, sorry,” he explained quickly to Dean. “ _And now he knocked Zbigniew…_ Ugh, no, that’s not the word… _He_ killed _Zbigniew._ ”

Dean just blinked.

“You killed two gnomes, Dean,” Cas muttered.

“Hell yeah, I did. I’m gonna kill all of them,” Dean grumbled.

Cas shook his head. “Wait. I think now they’re talking about… The boy. They’re talking about the boy,” he repeated, face darkening.

Dean stood up. “Charlie.”

Cas raised the volume again. “ _The boy… is not safe. They’re all in danger. We have to get out of here… as quickly as possible…_ ”

“Alright, I’m going there,” Dean said.

“ _We can’t defend them now. She will attack them tonight._ ”

“Wait, what?” Dean stopped by the door to the living room and looked back at Cas, confused. “Who’s _she_?”

“I have no idea,” Cas said distractedly. “ _She will kill them all if we’re not there to guard the house. She will kill the boy first. We have to do something…_ ” he translated.

Dean came back slowly to the room and crouched in front of Cas.

“I think we might have made a mistake.”


	4. Chapter 4

Cas still sat by the baby monitor, adjusting the volume and noting things down as he translated, sometimes pointing something out loud so that Dean could try typing new words into the Google search box. 

“Have you tried looking for some Polish folklore?” Cas asked for the third time. “Try dwarfs instead of gnomes. Or goblins. What about brownies?”

“Brownies?” Dean wrinkled his nose. “Like the Girl Scouts?”

Cas sighed. “I’m just trying to look for English equivalents. If there’s nothing, I can try reading something in Polish, but it’ll take longer.”

“Just focus on translating for now. Maybe they’ll tell us something more about that mysterious ‘she’. And I’m just gonna… read something on Polish fairy tales about gnomes. Huh. Apparently, there’s one in which gnomes help a little orphan girl survive winter. And well, of course there’s _Snow White_ , though I don’t think it’s Polish? Isn’t it American? I mean, I think it’s Disney, right? Oh, no, it’s German. Heh, I didn’t know that. But it seems they’re all good guys here. People like gnomes and dwarfs. There’s even a city in Poland that literally _worships_ dwarfs… Maybe those guys are really just trying to help us or…”

“Shishimora,” Cas said suddenly, breaking through Dean’s tirade.

“What?” Dean looked up from the computer screen. 

“They just said it. Shishimora.” Cas stood up from where he was seated on the carpet and came over to Dean, the monitor gripped tightly in his hand. “You should look it up, but I’m quite certain it’s just the other name for a kikimora.”

There was a beat of silence. “Should I… know what it is?” Dean asked, uncertain.

Cas squinted at him. “In all your years as a hunter, you’ve never even heard of kikimoras?”

“No, I guess not.” Dean shrugged. “We didn’t really hunt lots of Polish monsters, you know.”

“Kikimoras are of a Russian origin, I believe.”

“Whatever. You think that’s the evil _she_ they were talking about? How do you spell it?”

Cas leaned over his shoulder as Dean started typing in the name. “No, it’s written with a K, not a C. Two Ks. Yes, exactly,” he guided. “ _Mora_ means _nightmare_ in some languages.”

“Okay.” Dean clicked the link to the Wikipedia page and leaned back in his chair. “Here we go. _Kikimora, a legendary creature, a female house spirit in Slavic, especially Eastern, mythology…_ Whoa, it’s a spirit? Do you think salt would work?”

Cas shrugged, eyes still glued to the screen. “I think it’s more like a demon, although not your typical black-eyed demon. It’s probably thousands years old.”

“So, Ruby’s knife is out of the question, too. Awesome. Anyway… _When the kikimora inhabits a house, she lives behind the stove or in the cellar…_ What? She’s supposed to live here, in our house?” Dean looked around, as if expecting to see the monster hiding behind the curtains or lurking in the kitchen. 

“Just go on,” Cas said quietly, resting his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“ _…usually produces noises similar to those made by mice in order to obtain food.”_ Dean looked up at his husband. “You heard anything?” When Cas just shook his head, Dean continued reading. “ _Kikimoras were the first traditional explanation for sleep paralysis in Russian folklore…_ Oh, shit.”

“Sleep paralysis,” Cas repeated. “That’s it, Dean. This is what happened to you last night.”

“Yeah, I guess. So you think that gnome was there to… to what? Protect me?”

“Well, you didn’t die,” Cas said flatly. Dean shot him a dirty look. “Maybe they stopped her before she could do you any real harm.”

“Shit,” Dean said again. “And I tossed the poor guy through the window.” Cas squeezed his shoulder lightly, but Dean just waved his hand dismissively. “Doesn’t matter, it scared the crap outta me so I’m justified.”

“Of course, Dean. Read on.”

“Okay, so there’s some stuff about languages and so on and we’re not really interested in that… More about languages… Oh, look here. _People would repel moras by leaving a broom upside down behind the door, or putting their belt on top of their sheets, or saying an elaborate prayer poem before they go to sleep._ Do we even have a broom?” Dean quickly scanned the rest of the article, a frown on his face. “There’s nothing about how to kill ‘em.”

“Keep reading,” Cas said. “I’m going to consult the books. I’m sure we’ll find something.”

Dean stood up and stretched his arms. His eyes fell on the couch and he smiled suddenly.

“Hey, look who’s awake.” He came closer and Charlie beamed at him, scrambling to sit up. “How was your nap? You hungry? You wanna play some more with your teddies?”

“I want kitties,” Charlie said when Dean picked him up.

“Books again? Charls, you’re gonna be a nerd just like your uncle, aren’t you.”

“No! Kitty!”

Dean laughed and bent down to put his son on the floor among his toys. “We’ll go see the real kitty tomorrow, okay? Ms Katushka is busy right now.”

Charlie pouted and turned away to grab his book. Dean chuckled and ruffled his hair. 

“Tomorrow, Charlie, I promise.”

When he stood up and headed towards the hall, Cas looked up from the book he’d started reading in the meantime. 

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To find a broom.”

♡♡♡

“Do you think we should take Charlie away from here?” 

Dean glanced at Cas from where he was rummaging through the kitchen cabinets, looking for anything resembling a tiny old female creature that most sources described as a kikimora. He’d already searched behind the stove three times but still couldn’t find anything.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because it seems there’s a malevolent creature in our house that has threatened our son’s life. We’re hunters, but we can’t even do anything, not if it means leaving Charlie unprotected.”

“But where would we take him? I don’t really trust anyone in Newton enough to leave Charlie with them. Do you?”

Cas frowned, thinking for a moment. “I consider most of the library workers good colleagues, maybe even friends, but…”

“Yeah, exactly. The guys from the shop are okay, I guess, but ‘okay’ means ‘going out for a beer or two on a Friday night’ and not ‘can you take care of my baby while I hunt a hundred years old Slavic monster’,” Dean said.

“Thousands, probably,” Cas said. Dean just glared at him. “But yes, you’re right. I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving Charlie with them, unprotected.”

Dean closed the cupboard door and moved to the next one. “We _could_ call another hunter, but most of them live like, half a day from here. Or more. It just seems…”

“Unnecessary,” Cas said with a nod. “And I wouldn’t want to be this far away from Charlie, either.”

Dean looked back again. Cas sat at the small kitchen table, Charlie in his lap, eating a mix of carrots and peas Cas had prepared for him as an early dinner. Most of the vegetable pulp had ended up on Charlie’s chubby face and Cas’ shirt, but it seemed neither of them was paying any attention to that fact. Dean smiled absentmindedly at them.

“There’s also Missouri,” Dean said, watching as Cas took Charlie’s hand in his and guided his little spoon into his mouth. He never made airplanes sounds, unlike Dean, but he did open his mouth wide and said a prolonged “aaaaaahhh” to demonstrate eating.

“Missouri Moseley?” Cas asked, looking up at Dean. Charlie looked up, too, and grinned. Dean blew him a raspberry. “She lives in Lawrence, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah. It’s like a two-hour drive.” Dean frowned and scratched his nose. “But, ugh, I really wouldn’t want to intrude on her like that. She’s not so young anymore, I guess.”

“Also, you promised to see her almost fifteen years ago and probably never contacted her afterwards,” Cas deadpanned.

“Thirteen years,” Dean corrected, then sighed. “But yeah. She’s a scary lady, Cas. Maybe it’s better if we stay away.”

Cas nodded and handed the spoon back to Charlie, who immediately dropped it and put his own fingers into the bowl.

“Krissy used to live in Kansas,” Dean remembered. “In Conway Springs, I think. But I’m pretty sure Sam said something about her moving to Seattle.”

“What about Claire?” Cas asked, warmth sneaking into his voice just like every other time he’d spoken about his old vessel’s daughter. “Maybe she happens to be somewhere around here on a hunt.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s worth a try,” Dean said, shrugging and fishing his phone out of his jeans. “It’s a shame we don’t live closer to Sioux Falls. Jody would be so great with Charls, I just know it.”

Cas smiled at him while Dean dialed Claire’s number. It went straight to voicemail and Dean shook his head. Cas’ shoulders slumped a little.

“Guess that’s a no,” Dean said.

“I hope she’s okay,” Cas muttered, then craned his neck to look at their son in his lap. “Charlie, are you finished with your dinner?”

Charlie blinked at him, then his hand smeared the pulp over Cas’ right cheek. Dean chuckled, seeing Cas frown and cross his eyes, trying to look at his own face.

“Aaaaahhh,” Charlie said, opening his mouth and pawing at Cas’ own lips.

To his credit, Cas did let Charlie feed him a little out of his hand but then he caught his arm and wiped his fingers with a clean tissue. Then he proceeded to scrub at his own face.

“Thank you, honeybee, but I’m not hungry yet. Your dad and I will eat dinner later, alright?”

“I wanna draw,” Charlie said, ignoring Cas’ words and trying to slide off to the floor. 

“Let’s go get your crayons, then. Where are your crayons, Charlie?” Cas put Charlie down and gripped his hand. 

“My crayons,” Charlie repeated and reached out for Cas.

“Hey, Charls, I think it’s time to use your awesome little legs, what do you think?” Dean piped in. “Let’s try to go up the stairs today.”

Cas waited patiently for Charlie to move his legs and sent a smile Dean’s way.

“Come on, Charlie. Where are your crayons, do you remember?” he asked, accompanying the boy as he took small unsure steps forward.

“Room,” Charlie said.

Cas laughed. “What room?”

“My room!”

Dean followed them out of the kitchen and into the living room. Charlie let go of Cas’ hand and went quickly through the living room, swaying a little. 

“Your room is also called a bedroom,” Cas said patiently. They reached the stairs; Charlie stretched his hand out and waited for Cas to take it. “And we keep your crayons in the box with other toys, right? Okay, Charlie, now up!”

Dean leaned on the wooden railing and watched them with a stupid smile on his face. When they were halfway up the stairs, the phone in his pocket chirped loudly.

“It’s Claire,” he read out loud so Cas could hear him. “Says she’s hunting something in Ohio and she’ll call back when she’s done.” 

“Is she hunting and texting at the same time?” Cas asked.

“Looks like.” Dean chuckled, thumbing through his phone. “Hey, I’m gonna call Sam, ask what he thinks about it. You guys go wild with your crayons.”

Cas said something, but Dean didn’t hear him, already going back to the kitchen and dialling Sam’s number.

♡♡♡

When Dean went up into Charlie’s bedroom, he found both his husband and his son sitting on the floor, deep into the process of colouring.

“How’s it going, guys?” he asked and flopped onto the beanbag chair in the corner of the room.

“Dog says woof,” Charlie said, proud to share his newly acquired piece of knowledge.

Cas leaned down and kissed his forehead. “That was perfect, Charlie.”

“Awesome. And what do kitties say?” Dean asked, smiling.

“Meow!” Charlie recited happily.

“Of course.” Cas nodded and looked at Dean. “What did Sam say?”

Dean chuckled, then sighed. “First he yelled at me for not calling him as soon as we found the first gnome. He’s taking an earlier flight and will be here first thing on Sunday.” 

“I really hope we’ll be done with all of it before Sunday,” Cas said grimly. “I would love to finally get a good night’s sleep.”

As in reaction to his words, Dean yawned. “Yeah, I know,” he muttered, eyes watering. “That’s what I told him, but you know Sam. He also asked if our neighbour wasn’t Russian.”

“Did you tell him we already thought about it?”

“Yeah. But I guess it’s just a very obvious assumption, so I get it.”

“But she was living here long before we moved in. There’s no reasonable explanation for why she would try to attack us now. And the fact that she’s Russian doesn’t immediately mean she’s the monster.”

“I know, and he knows it, too. He said he’ll do some research and let us know if he finds anything.” Dean rubbed a hand over his face. “I went through the entire kitchen and the hall. Unless that bitch knows we’re looking for her and is deliberately hiding from us, she’s not in the house. Or maybe she’s invisible or something.”

“We should check the attic, too.” Cas looked down at Charlie, who was trying to take a brown crayon out of Cas’ hand. “Oh, sorry, dear. Here. What colour is this?”

The boy ignored him and didn’t answer, but Cas’ attention was already back to Dean, too distracted to teach Charlie new words.

“Looked there, too,” Dean said. “There’s nothing. I mean, nothing apart from those old boxes, but I looked through them and didn’t find any little old ladies in them.”

Cas sighed and shook his head. “I really am at a loss here, Dean. What more can we do? Do we just go to sleep tonight and wait for her to appear?”

“I’m not using Charlie as bait. Or you, for that matter,” Dean said.

“None of us will be used us bait,” Cas said. “We need to find another way.”

“Maybe Sam’ll find something.” 

“Or we can try asking the gnomes again.”

“Yeah, about them.” Dean stood up from the beanbag. “I was gonna go check on them, see if I need to smash any more empty heads.”

Cas frowned at him from the floor. “They are supposed to be on the good side of this conflict, Dean.”

“Yeah, and ‘supposed’ is the key word. We still don’t know if we can really trust them, so I’m not gonna trust them, period. And they’re still creepy.”

Cas smiled at him. “Just try not to break all of them. And could you bring me coffee when you get back?”

“Sure.” Dean let his hand brush Cas’ shoulders and touch his neck, delighted when Cas leaned into him. “Any more wishes?”

Cas grinned. “Kiss me?”

Dean laughed and leaned down.

♡♡♡

Dean wasn’t sure what woke him up.

He sat up, momentarily scared he would experience the paralysis again, but it seemed everything was alright this time. Cas was asleep with his back to him and Charlie slept soundly in the old crib they had dragged into their bedroom just to be sure nothing would happen.

And nothing _should_ be happening, because the kikimora was supposed to be gone now, wasn’t it?

Earlier that day, Sam had called them back with more information about the Slavic mythology. Apparently, kikimoras lived in houses they had been invited into by someone, usually the house builders. They were supposed to make kikimora dolls and place them somewhere in the house if for some reason they were angry with the people buying or renting the house. 

After Sam had said it, Cas’ eyes had sparkled. 

“We know where the doll is, Dean,” he had said, which had made Dean remember the creepy old doll they’d found in the attic a week or two ago. Rediscovering it must have woken the kikimora up and turned her against them again. Sam had said it was enough to burn the doll and throw the remains out of the house to repel the kikimora, which, of course, they’d promptly done. 

The gnomes had remained locked in the shed, still tied up together, just to be sure. Sam had promised to help them decide what to do with them once he’d arrived. 

That evening, they could finally go to sleep. Dean had promised himself to stay more or less awake just in case the kikimora was still somewhere around the house. It had been easier said than done, though, especially after two sleepless nights in a row.

But now everything seemed okay. It was quiet; the baby monitor was turned on but silent, too, its second part still in the shed with the gnomes. Charlie and Cas were asleep, so why wasn’t Dean?

And then he heard whirring.

Breath catching in his throat, he sat up slowly, straining to hear it more clearly. The bedroom door was closed and the sound seemed almost inaudible. Maybe he was just hearing things. One look at the phone on his nightstand revealed it was three in the morning. He’d barely gotten four hours of sleep; maybe he was still too sleep-deprived and hallucinating. 

He tried to convince himself that it was nothing, but he couldn’t help but stalk over to the door and open it, just a little, just to hear better. If there _was_ something downstairs, he would hear it again and then decide what to do next.

The broom they had left behind the door still stood upside down, leaning on the wall. The hall was dark and quiet and for a moment, Dean didn’t hear anything.

But then it came again, louder this time, a regular, rapid sound, clear and familiar enough that Dean could feel his hair stand on end.

_whirr whirr whirr whirr whirr—_

It was exactly the same sound he had heard last night. He knew now what it was — kikimoras were supposed to use the old-fashioned wooden spinning wheel, and the sound meant some serious bad luck to people who heard it.

Dean was used to bad luck and he wasn’t scared of some little old woman spinning freaking yarn in his kitchen.

He came back to the bedroom only to get his gun from the nightstand. Burning the doll hadn’t worked, apparently, and Dean had no idea how to kill the damned thing, but filling it with lead couldn’t hurt. He also grabbed a small bottle of holy water, pushed it into the pocket of his pyjama pants, and then went out, making sure to put the broom back in its place outside the door.

The whirring didn’t stop when he made his way down the stairs, his socked feet quiet on the wooden steps, gun held high in his hands. Slowly, he crept through the living room, staying close to the wall and trying to peek into the kitchen without being seen. 

_whirr whirr whirr whirr whirr—_

He was standing almost by the doors to the kitchen and still didn’t see anything. His eyes scanned the countertops and the table, looking for anything that didn’t belong there. Maybe the spinning wheel was small as well, just to fit the size of the monster. Maybe it was hidden somewhere, behind the stove, for example, just like the lore said, and he would have to come closer and— 

His gaze fell on the fridge and the small shiny object lying on top of it.

_whirr whirr whirr whirr whirr—_

It was a cellphone. 

Dean blinked and lowered his gun. It was neither his nor Cas’ phone, but it was there, lit, and… making the sound.

_—whirr whirr whirr._

The phone’s screen turned to black and the sound stopped with one last definite whir that echoed in the dark, empty kitchen.

And then something moved right behind him. Dean saw it in the corner of his eye and spun on his heel, gun firing even before he could think about it.

The blurry shadow—human-shaped and human-sized—dashed out of the living room, too quick for Dean to see it more clearly. The bullet must have reached it because he didn’t hear it hit anything else, but the thing hadn’t been slowed down by it. Dean darted after it, the cellphone forgotten. The hall was empty when he got there and for a few seconds he just stood there, breathing heavily and looking around. Then an ear-splitting wail sounded just by his ear and he cried out, one hand coming up to cover his head. Something long and thin and dark passed right in front of him and he whirled around, trying to see it and feeling dizzy with the movement. He grabbed the bottle of holy water and splashed it around, trying to reach the thing that kept dashing by him, too quick for the human eye to notice anything except the blackness. The wailing got even louder then, and suddenly something punched Dean hard in the chest, sending him flying over to the wall. For a few terrifying seconds, he stared straight into a pale, long face, so thin that he could almost see the bones through the skin. Black demon eyes looked back at him, mad with fury and disgust. Dean threw out a hand purely by instinct, trying to push the thing away, and at the same time he heard footsteps and then the pressure on his chest disappeared.

“Dean!” 

Dean blinked and then Cas was right in front of him, face pale and eyes wild. He touched Dean’s shoulder, a silent question.

“I’m fine,” Dean croaked and looked down. In his hand he held a thin string, broken in the middle. There was a small metal necklace hanging from it.

He raised his hand to show Cas the necklace.

“A spindle,” Cas murmured. “It was the kikimora.”

“It wasn’t just some random kikimora,” Dean said, eyes glued to the tiny object. “I’ve seen this thing before. I know who it belongs to.”

Cas looked him in the eyes. “You know who the kikimora is.”

Dean gripped the necklace tighter. “I think we need to pay our neighbour a visit, after all.”


	5. Chapter 5

Cas had convinced him that going after the kikimora right after the attack wouldn’t have been the best idea. They still didn’t know how to kill it and they could almost be sure she wouldn’t go back to her house for at least a while.

Dean left the necklace on the coffee table and went to the kitchen to grab the phone from the fridge. It was quiet now, but when Dean unlocked it, the music player showed a track named “spinningwheel_noise.mp3”.

“Okay, so I’d say she’s adapting,” Dean murmured, coming back to the living room. Cas was sitting on the couch, eyes glued to the necklace, but he raised his head to look at Dean.

“She must have evolved,” he noticed. “The lore said kikimoras were small and lived in the house they haunted.”

“Yeah, and we got ourselves the one that pretends to be our neighbour. And she’s definitely not a Thumbelina.” He flopped down beside Cas and rubbed both hands over his face. “Question is, how do we kill the bitch?”

Cas shook his head slowly. “Even in the case of the traditional kikimoras, there wasn’t much information on how to get rid of them. Repel for a while, yes, but not kill. I have no idea what to do with a kikimora in the 21st century.”

“Damn it.” Dean rested his head on the back of the couch and tilted it so he could look at Cas. “Why did it have to be us? We’re almost retired, for fuck’s sake.”

“The lore _did_ mention she isn’t really fond of men,” Cas said and sighed. “We’re probably even more vulnerable.”

Dean straightened up. “Are you saying she’s freakin’ _homophobic_?” When Cas just shrugged, Dean frowned angrily. “Okay. Well, if she’s still here and watching, I hope she enjoys the show.”

“What sh—” Cas’ voice got muffled when Dean surged forward, grabbed his face between his hands, and kissed him firmly on the lips. Cas tried protesting but Dean didn’t let him, pushing his tongue inside Cas’ mouth, fingers sliding into his hair and tugging him closer.

“I’m pissed off and tired,” Dean murmured against Cas’ skin. “I don’t need a crazy Russian lady judging me for my life choices.”

Cas put a hand on Dean’s chest when Dean tried climbing into his lap. “Dean. We need to go make sure Charlie’s alright and then come up with a plan.”

Dean whined and buried his face in the crook of Castiel’s neck. “I know. Fuck, I know.”

Cas’ fingers petted his hair gently. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

He had already checked Dean right after the attack, so Dean knew he didn’t mean physical injuries.

“I guess,” Dean mumbled into his neck. “I just feel like I haven’t slept in three days.”

Cas kissed his temple, warm lips staying against Dean’s skin for a moment. “That’s because you barely have. Do you need me to stay up so you can get some rest?”

“No.” Dean sneaked his arms around Cas’ waist and hugged him a little closer to himself. “You need to sleep now, too.”

“I’m fine, Dean.”

“It’s not your job to watch over me anymore—”

“Dean—”

“Babe, no.” Dean raised his head and looked at Cas, at his pinched brows and dark bags underneath his eyes. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep now, anyway. So we’re just gonna hunt that thing down and then sleep for a whole day, okay? How’s that?”

Cas smiled softly at him. “I like the sound of it.”

Dean leaned closer and dropped a kiss on his lips. “Yeah, me, too. And you know what else?”

Cas closed his eyes when Dean kissed him again. “Hmm?”

“When we’re done,” Dean slid his mouth along Cas’ sharp jaw, leaving small kisses on the stubbled skin, “I’m gonna take you to bed and make you feel so good.”

“Okay,” Cas whispered with a soft laugh, hands clutching at Dean’s t-shirt.

“Yeah? You up for it?” Dean murmured against his ear.

“Of course, Dean,” Cas said warmly. 

Dean smiled, moving back to Cas’ lips and kissing him slowly for a full minute. Cas sighed into his mouth and pulled away so that their foreheads were still touching.

“Let’s go check on our son, now,” Dean said quietly, with a small smile.

Cas took his hand, entwined their fingers, and let himself be pulled off the couch and up the stairs. 

♡♡♡

They decided to take the gnomes with them.

Cas strapped Charlie into his stroller and tucked his favourite cat toy right beside him. Dean managed to put four gnomes in the carrier under the seat. He handed Cas the fifth and took the sixth one himself. Charlie kept watching him with wide, happy eyes, so Dean gave yet another one to him.

“The rest of you stay here,” he muttered. He left the door to the shed slightly open, just in case, and then looked at Cas. “I still feel weird talking to them.” 

“They probably don’t understand you anyway,” Cas said calmly. 

Dean nodded curtly. “Okay. Let’s do this, then. You stay with Charlie outside the house and I go in.”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “What? Why can’t I go in?”

Dean sighed. “Cas, c’mon. Let’s not do this now. You know one of us has to stay with Charlie. I’m not taking him inside.”

“I know.” Cas pressed his lips into a thin line, eyes angry. “But I’m not comfortable with you going in there alone.”

“Do you have any other bright ideas?” Dean pushed the stroller towards the street, Cas following close behind. 

“Yes. You stay with Charlie and I take care of it.”

“Ha, you see, I knew you’d say that. But no, sorry. Not happening.”

They were now slowly making their way towards their neighbour’s house, the stroller’s wheels squeaking quietly on the pavement. Cas took the gnome out of Dean’s hands so that he could maneuver the stroller better. Dean would smile at him if he wasn’t trying to scowl at the same time.

“Dean, we have no idea what she’s capable of,” Cas said in a low voice.

“Yeah, we do. She attacks you when you’re sleeping and sucks out your energy or blood or whatever. Newsflash: we’re not sleeping now. It’ll be easy.”

“Then maybe we should go in together,” Cas suggested, clearly annoyed.

“Yeah, no.” Dean glared at him. “She pushed me into the wall. She seemed pretty strong to me.”

“Oh, so now you’re saying we don’t actually know what she’s capable of,” Cas argued.

Dean groaned and stopped. They were standing right in front of Ms Katushka’s house, the yard quiet and empty with no signs of anything evil visible through the windows. 

“Okay, keep your voice down,” Dean muttered.

“But Dean—”

“I know.” Dean turned towards Cas and sighed, seeing the stubborn expression on his face. “But what are we supposed to do? One of us has to go in there and at least try to do something. We’re not risking another night with that bitch running free.”

“I don’t want to just stand here, not knowing what’s happening inside,” Cas said. His jaw and shoulders were tense, but Dean could see worry in his blue eyes. “You want to go in there without knowing how to kill her. It’s unreasonable.”

“At least I’ve got them?” Dean raised the gnomes in his hands.

“We’re not even absolutely sure they _can_ help us.”

“I’ve got my gun. I’ve got holy water and some salt.”

“She’s neither a demon nor a ghost.”

“Well, she’s _something_! It’s not my fault Slavic dudes couldn’t create normal monsters.”

“They didn’t _create_ them, per se—”

“Cas, come on, man—”

They both stopped when they heard Charlie giggle loudly. His little hands were holding onto the gnome and his ear was pressed to the creature’s mouth.

“Charlie?” Dean asked unsurely. “What are you doing?”

The boy laughed again and didn’t pay any attention to him. Dean sent Cas a confused look and then crouched in front of the stroller. 

“Baby?”

Charlie looked at him and pushed the gnome into his hands, smiling.

“Were you… talking with it?” Dean asked.

Charlie patted the gnome on its red hat. “Funny,” he said.

Before Dean could react, Cas leaned down and gave Charlie the gnome he’d been holding. 

“Dude, what the—”

“Is he funny, too, Charlie?” Cas asked, voice calm even though his eyes were freakishly wide when they stared at Dean. 

To their surprise, Charlie immediately put the gnome to his ear and sat still for a few long seconds. 

Then he laughed out loud.

Dean stood up quickly, head a little dizzy.

“He can hear them,” he said. 

“Apparently,” Cas said pensively.

“Well, can he… Can he understand them?” Dean glanced down at his son and then up at Cas again. “Is my son a linguistic genius?”

Cas squinted at the boy for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “I don’t think so. He’s laughing because the Polish language sounds funny to him. It’s very... _rustly._ All those fricatives—”

“Cas. Focus.” Dean snapped his fingers in front of Cas’ face. “What are we gonna do?”

Cas looked down at the second gnome in his hands and then put it into Dean’s hands. “I’ve got an idea. Please, stay here.”

“What—” Dean watched as Cas turned on his heel and ran back towards their house without another word. “ _Cas!_ ” he hissed quietly after him. 

Charlie laughed again and Dean sighed. 

“Your father drives me insane sometimes, you know?” He crouched down in front of his son again, eyes glued to the gnome in the boy’s small hands. “What are you two talking about? Fairies? Candies? I swear to God, if the pointy bastard is teaching you curse words I’ll—”

Cas appeared next to them, panting heavily with two baby monitors in his hands. He put one in the stroller with Charlie and then handed the other to Dean, still too breathless to say a word.

Dean raised his brows. “You think it’s gonna wo—”

“ _Kikimory zwykły pozostawać w ukryciu w ciągu dnia_ ,” came out of the monitor in Dean’s hands.

“Fuck.” Dean almost swayed on his feet while Charlie giggled joyously, the gnome’s face pressed into the second monitor. “Oh my God, I think I heard ‘kikimora’. Cas, did you—”

“Turn it up,” Cas said.

Dean complied, looking expectantly at Cas.

“ _…nie możemy jednak poręczyć, że ta bedzie nieszkodliwa…_ ”

“I don’t—It’s gibberish,” Dean said. “You got anything?”

Cas nodded, eyes still glued to the monitor in Dean’s hands. “He’s talking about the kikimora. She’s supposed to attack only at night so it’s possible she’s defenseless now… But he’s not sure.”

“Does he know how to kill it?” Dean asked.

Cas looked at him. “Do you think he’ll understand me?”

“Well, he knew what we were talking about. Just use your awesome language skills.”

Instead of answering, Cas leaned down over Charlie and lightly touched his shoulder.

“Can I talk to your friend for a moment, Charlie?” he asked. When the boy tried giving him the gnome, Cas shook his head. “No, you keep him, honey. He likes you.” Then he looked up at Dean and took a deep breath. 

Dean blinked when a string of chirping, noisy words rolled from Cas’ tongue, only a little hesitant. It sounded a bit like Russian but the flow was different, more rhythmic and excited and somewhat softer than Russian. Dean didn’t know much about languages, he probably didn’t know English as well as he should, but Cas sounded quite good speaking Polish. 

Well, he would probably sound good to Dean no matter the language.

He almost dropped the monitor when it spoke again. Cas came closer, a wide smile on his face. Dean kept silent, waiting for the gnome to stop speaking.

Cas exhaled loudly. “We need to find a museum,” he said.

Dean’s eyebrows raised. “What?”

“A textile museum or something similar. It doesn’t matter if the kikimora has evolved or not, there is one thing that can kill her.”

“And we need a museum to get it,” Dean guessed, already packing all the gnomes into the stroller and starting to push it back towards their house. Cas followed him closely, hands gesturing excitedly as he kept talking.

“I really hope we can find it somewhere in Kansas, otherwise we’ll need to order it online or drive somewhere farther…”

“We’ll Google it,” Dean said. “What do we need, anyway?”

“A spindle, apparently.” Dean opened his mouth to interrupt him, but Cas just continued. “Yes, just like the one she was wearing on her neck. But the real one.”

“So what, we just stab her with it and she drops dead, Sleeping Beauty-style?”

Cas gave him a small smile. “Let’s hope so.”

♡♡♡

Dean parked the Impala a few blocks away from the museum, near the tiny park with a couple of trees and benches. He’d taken Charlie out of his car seat and into his arms and was wandering around the park, hoping Cas would manage to make off out of the museum with the spindle all by himself. Dean had tried arguing with him, but they both knew museums of any kind weren’t really Dean’s area. Cas had also assured him he’d be back in half an hour at most and finally Dean had agreed to stay behind with their son.

“You know,” he said, keeping Charlie at his hip and walking around the few empty lanes of the park, “we’re not even in Kansas anymore.”

Charlie whined and kicked his feet out so Dean bent at his waist and put him down to the ground. He used his hand to prevent him from plopping with his butt to the dirty pavement.

“Well, actually,” he said after a while of wandering around, Charlie’s tiny fingers gripping his hand with all the strength he had. “Actually, we’re in Kansas City, but not in Kansas. Here’s your geography lesson of the day, kiddo: Kansas City’s in Missouri. Freaky, right?” 

A pigeon landed on the path right in front of them and Charlie squeaked happily, tugging at Dean’s hand. 

“Just don’t touch it, honey,” Dean warned, edging closer. The bird hopped away when it noticed them and soon Charlie got distracted by a long branch lying under one of the trees. “God, I’m hungry. You hungry, Charls?”

Charlie looked up at him, his small face scrunching when the sun hit his eyes. “‘M hungry,” he said.

“We’ll stop by some diner, okay?” Dean used his free hand to take the phone from his pocket and check the time. “It’s one thirty, so I guess we can spare half an hour and grab something to eat and be back home when it’s still light.” He looked down at Charlie, who seemed to pay him no attention, brandishing his newfound stick around. “I’m pretty sure I saw a nice crêpe place on our way here. You know what crêpes are, Charls?”

Charlie looked up. “No,” he said and shook his head.

“They’re kind of like pancakes, but I think they’re French so people just decided to give them a weird name.”

“‘Cakes,” Charlie said gleefully. 

“I know, pancakes are awesome.” Dean grinned down at his son. “Hey, look. Let’s go see that strange thing. Is that a button?”

They strolled down towards the tall sculpture in a shape of a needle going through a big red button with four holes in it. Dean held Charlie’s hand tightly while the boy took his time trying to climb the button and put his hands inside the holes.

They’d been pretty lucky—after googling for a few minutes, Cas had found the textile museum in Kansas City, less than three hours from home. Dean would complain about having to drive to another state with a child and a creepy monster on their asses, but it had actually felt quite good to finally _do_ something other than just researching. The kikimora would still be there when they got back and they would at least have something to use in a fight against her. 

They had also arranged all the gnomes around their porch and front yard in case she decided to sneak into their house and wait for them there. All gnomes except one, to be precise—Charlie had really wanted to take his new best friend with a beard and a red hat to the car with him and Dean had no heart to deny him that. 

Listening to his son talking to the ceramic gnome in the backseat of the Impala must have been the strangest experience of his life, though.

Dean was sitting on one of the benches with Charlie looking for new sticks and running after pigeons when Cas finally came back, a distinct bulge in the pocket of his coat where he must have hidden the spindle. Dean leapt to his feet.

“Got it?” he asked.

Cas sent him a small smile. “Of course I’ve got it, Dean.”

Dean grinned and grabbed the lapels of Cas’ old trench coat, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Papa,” Charlie said.

Cas broke the kiss, smiling dizzyingly at Dean before crouching down at Charlie’s level.

“Hello, honey bunny.” He reached out and booped him on the nose. “What do you have there?”

Charlie presented him his newest twig, still with a leaf hanging off it, and Cas expressed his fascination in a way only he could after seeing a dirty part of a tree. Dean laughed and ruffled both of his boys’ hair. Cas looked up at him with a smile.

“Hey, Charls, I’ve got a deal for you,” Dean said and winked at his husband. “If you leave that stick here, me and Papa will take you to try crêpes, what do you say?”

“You just don’t want it in your car, Dean, admit it,” Cas said with a smirk, standing up.

Dean leaned down to take Charlie into his arms. “Shh, don’t tell him,” he replied and dropped a quick kiss to the boy’s head when he threw the stick to the ground.

♡♡♡

On their way back, the gnome decided to teach Charlie a song.

At first, Dean had no idea what the song was about. It was short and rhythmical and freaking annoying because the gnome’s voice was squeaky and his language sounded like hissing. 

“It’s about the cat,” Cas translated, the baby monitor in his lap. “It’s climbing the fence and winking.”

“Winking,” Dean deadpanned while the gnome’s voice wailed from the speaker and his own son hummed loudly in the backseat.

“Yes. Then the narrator tells the cat that he likes the song and convinces it to sing again.”

“Please don’t,” Dean groaned. 

There was a moment of silence when all he could hear was the loud purring of his car’s engine.

Then the gnome started singing again.

Dean took one hand off the wheel and reached out for the monitor in Cas’ lap. After some fumbling, he finally pushed the button and the song ended abruptly. Charlie was in the middle of the verse and he paused, looking at his parents quizzically.

“Sorry, Charls,” Dean offered, looking at his son in the rearview mirror.

He expected the boy to start crying or pouting, but the boy just brought the gnome closer to his ear and, after a moment of listening, began humming again. It sounded slightly off-key and he obviously didn’t know the words, but it didn’t stop him from mumbling something unintelligible under his breath, legs swinging happily.

Cas turned in his seat to face Charlie. “Repeat after me: _caught_.”

“Caught,” Charlie said.

“Very good, honeybee. Now—”

“Grammar practice, Cas? Really?” Dean asked, confused.

Cas waved him off. “One more time, Charlie?”

“Caught,” Charlie said, big brown eyes smiling. 

“When you say it like that, it means ‘cat’ in Polish,” Cas explained, as if a 20-month-old child would know what Poland even was. “Now, say this: _caught-eck_. It means a kitty.”

“Cas, _come on_ ,” Dean groaned.

“Shh.” Cas smacked him on the shoulder. Charlie giggled but tried repeating after Cas and all Dean could do was roll his eyes at his geeky husband and soon-to-be-geeky son. 

Dean was tempted to turn on the radio just to tune them out but he knew Cas would glare at him and turn it off as soon as possible, so instead he just sped up a little, eyes glued to the road ahead of them. 

Less than an hour and they would be back in Newton.

Fortunately, Charlie got tired and fell asleep ten minutes later. Before Dean even had a chance, Cas turned the radio on and changed the station to some classic rock, turning down the volume. Charlie loved sleeping to Metallica and Dean couldn’t be prouder of his son for it.

Cas smiled at him sweetly and slid closer on the seat to peck him on the cheek. Dean grumbled and rolled his eyes good-naturedly, throwing one arm around Cas’ shoulders for a moment and turning his head to kiss him back on his jaw.

Cas huffed a laugh and sneaked out of Dean’s grip. “Both hands on the wheel,” he admonished.

“Of course, dear,” Dean chuckled because apparently he was freaking whipped. And he liked it. 

They spent the rest of the ride in a relative silence, exchanging just a few sentences, rock songs playing quietly in the background. Cas took the spindle out of his coat pocket and spent a long time just turning it in his hands and watching it closely. It was big and wooden, with a flat disc on one side and a long pointy spike, thinner than a finger, jutting from the middle of the disc. Dean hoped the spike wouldn’t break as soon as it touched the kikimora’s skin.

It was barely after five when Dean turned into their street and veered the car down the driveway. He was just about to shut off the engine when he heard Cas gasp loudly. He looked at him and noticed he was staring out the window and towards their house.

“ _What_ ,” Dean said but Cas was already getting out of the car and Dean had no choice but to pocket his keys and follow him. “Cas, what—”

“Get Charlie,” Cas called back without turning to look at him.

But Dean didn’t care because he finally noticed what Cas had been looking at.

All the gnomes they had left standing guard on their porch and in their front yard had been smashed to pieces and tossed around the grass. 

Dean scrambled to open the door to the backseat. Charlie was still asleep but he opened his eyes and whined when Dean took him out of his seat and into his arms.

“Shh, please don’t cry,” Dean whispered to him, his hand coming up to brush the boy’s soft hair.

“Don’t wanna,” Charlie mumbled tearfully, cranky from being woken up so suddenly. 

“Please, baby,” Dean muttered. He slammed the door and winced when Charlie sobbed quietly into his shoulder. “Sorry, sorry. Come on, you’re a big boy, Charls. Don’t cry. Look, we’re back home.”

Dean was relieved when Charlie kept his crying to a minimum, just a few soft wet sobs uttered against his neck and tiny fingers clutching at his jacket. Dean kissed his temple distractedly and rushed towards the house where Cas had disappeared.

It was quiet inside. Dean, his heart in his throat, entered the living room, frantically looking around for Cas. He noticed the mess in the room, books and other things that usually lie on the coffee table and the furniture were now tossed to the floor, an obvious sign of some furious search. One solitary gnome stood under the table, face turned away. Dean didn’t even stop to consider the damage of his house and headed straight to the kitchen.

His arms tightened around Charlie when he spotted Cas. He was lying on the kitchen floor right by the cabinets, curled on his side. Something tall and shadowy leaned over him, long thin hands outstretched towards his face.

“Hey!” Dean called before he could think. Cas’ head snapped upwards and Dean almost laughed with relief but then he noticed that his voice had also managed to attract the thing in their kitchen. It turned to him, its edges blurry and pulsing with energy, the body swift and lanky and branch-like, face pale, framed with long yellow hair, eyes huge and black and glaring at him.

Dean took a step back, barely recognising Ms Katushka in the demonic features of the kikimora.

“Hiya, neighbour,” Dean said, eyes flickering to Cas and hands holding onto Charlie. “Decided to take us up on that offer and come for dinner?”

The kikimora bared her teeth at them, hissed, and surged forward, moving so quickly that Dean could barely notice anything and then suddenly he was being pushed out of the kitchen and flying into the wall in the living room. The impact took his breath away for a few long seconds and he closed his eyes when his head hit the wall unpleasantly. 

Charlie squirmed in his arms and let out a soft whine. Dean opened his eyes and threw out his hand, hoping to push the monster away just like the last time. The kikimora stood so close now that he could see the small necklace back on her chest. Dean’s fingers reached for it almost unconsciously, but then the kikimora wailed, the sound so loud it pierced painfully through Dean’s skull. Something sharp scratched at Dean’s hand and he backed away, heart stopping in his chest when he noticed the look on the kikimora’s face: eyes so huge and dark they almost swallowed her entire face, mouth a gaping hole, bright hair standing on ends around her long face.

Charlie burst into tears and shook so violently in his arms that Dean was afraid he was going to drop him. Dean pressed the boy’s little face into his chest and did everything he could to keep him away from the monster.

Then something else moved in the room. Dean heard the unmistakable sound of a sharp object piercing through skin and the breaking of bones. The kikimora froze, monstrous face melting into something akin to surprise, and Dean noticed Cas standing behind her back, breathing heavy, eyes wide, a splotch of dark red adorning his temple. 

For a moment, everything was quiet except for Charlie’s crying. Dean kept staring at the monster’s face, waiting for any sign that could indicate that the spindle Cas had just stabbed it with actually worked. 

But then the kikimora let out a raspy sound that dangerously resembled a laugh, turned on her heel, and struck Cas so that he went flying to the other side of the room.

“Fuck,” Dean muttered breathlessly, watching as the spindle sank to the floor with a loud thud. There wasn’t even a drop of blood on the wooden spike and Dean could barely see any wound in the monster’s back. 

He watched as the kikimora neared Cas’ unmoving form and his body reacted mechanically. He put Charlie on the couch, leaned down to retrieve the gnome from under the table, and hurled it at the kikimora’s head. She screeched as it made her tumble to the floor inelegantly. Dean jumped at her, hands immediately going to her neck and tearing the necklace with a brutal force before she could react. The second the necklace was off, she seemed to shrink and lose her demonic vibe, and suddenly it was only his familiar neighbour lying on the floor in front of him. 

He wanted to back away, not sure if it would be okay to leave now, but then she opened her mouth and wailed at him.

His fist collided with her face even before he could consider it.

“ _Otday!_ ” she spat at him. 

He had no idea what it meant, but she tried scratching at his face and getting up so he punched her again. 

“ _Ja tebia ubiju!_ ” she screeched. “ _Ubliudak! Urod!_ ” 

“Shut your mouth, bitch,” he grunted and pinned her to the floor with his knees and hands. “That’s for scaring my baby.” He hit her again. “And for trashing my house. And for being a fucking homophobe—”

“Dean,” Cas said. 

Dean looked up, fist up in the air. Cas sat on the floor right beside them and gripped the spindle in his hands. Dean moved so that he was still keeping the kikimora mostly still but his body wasn’t covering her chest.

“Finish her, Cas,” Dean breathed out.

He grunted and closed his eyes when the spindle stabbed the woman right through her heart. There was no bright light, though, and she didn’t even make a sound. When Dean opened his eyes hesitantly, all that was left of the kikimora was a few thick yellow threads and the bloody wooden spindle in Cas’ hands.

Dean locked eyes with Cas for a long moment, both of them panting and wide-eyed.

“Did you kill her?” Dean asked.

Cas gulped. “Yes. She just… burst and vanished. But she’s most certainly dead.”

“Good,” Dean said.

He stood up, hand outstretched to help Cas to his feet, too, and then went back to the couch, took crying Charlie into his arms, and hid his face in the boy’s hair.

“It’s over, baby,” he mumbled, voice only a little shaky. “It’s over.”

[ ](http://imgur.com/Ai3yrfi)


	6. Chapter 6

Epilogue

Dean got out of bed with a quiet sigh, wondering if he would ever be able to sleep again.

He checked on Charlie, quiet and sound asleep in his own bed. He took out a bag of salt from the cupboard in the hall and lined the windows and the threshold in his bedroom. He made sure the devil’s trap underneath the carpet was still intact. Then he drew another salt line just outside his own bedroom and went downstairs, the bag under his arm.

The house was empty and silent. After killing the kikimora, they had tried to clean the living room a little, but some books still lay in stacks on the coffee table; Cas had wanted to put them in their exact place but had been too tired to do it right away. The gnome that had somehow survived being thrown at the monster sat on one of the books, the red hat glistening eerily in the moonlight.

Dean knew it made little sense, but he lined every window with salt. For a few long moments, he stood in the kitchen, staring at both spindles—the big wooden one and the small one from the necklace—and then he groaned and rubbed his hands over his face.

He still felt as if something was just lurking in the dark, waiting to attack him or his family. He was way too alert to go back to sleep now, so he decided to use another sleepless night in the best way possible.

With the gun tucked behind his pyjama pants and the wooden spindle in his hand, he went out into the night and towards his neighbour’s house. Jumping over the low fence didn’t cause him any trouble and neither did opening the back door to the house. He sneaked inside, immediately regretting not taking the flashlight with him. It was dark inside and he didn’t want to turn on any lights - someone could notice it and talk with the police about it when it was discovered that the occupant went missing.

Although for now he just needed to make sure the occupant _was_ truly gone.

The first floor was devoid of any life—almost literally. There were just a few furniture pieces, no personal objects, no plants, no dirty dishes. Dean checked every corner and every curtain but couldn’t find anything. He made his way upstairs and discovered there were only two rooms there. The first one turned out to be completely vacant. Bare white walls made his steps echo around the room when he turned around curiously.

He was carefully closing the door to the first room when he heard something coming from the second one. His fingers gripped the gun and the spindle tighter and he sneaked across the hall, gripped the handle, and slowly opened the door.

Something shot out of the room and passed under his legs so quickly he didn’t even have a chance to think about firing his gun.

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” he cursed and ran downstairs, following the small shadow that had passed him.

It took him less than a few seconds to locate the kitten in the main room. It was sitting in the middle of the carpetless floor, its small black eyes following Dean’s every move.

“Are you alone here?” Dean asked, because apparently talking to the animals was now as logical as talking to garden gnomes.

The kitten meowed at him pitifully. Dean sighed.

“Of course you’re alone. We killed that fucking thing, I saw it with my own two eyes. It’s stupid.” Dean rubbed the hand holding the gun over his face. “I need more sleep, damn it.”

He headed back towards the back door only to be followed by the soft pads of the cat’s paws across the bare floor.

“Nope. You stay here, furball,” he said tiredly.

“ _Meow_ ,” the kitten cried.

“Yeah, I’ll come over tomorrow and give you some food, now go away,” Dean murmured.

The cat rubbed its head on Dean’s ankle and looked up at him with big, black eyes. Dean groaned but crouched down to pat its soft grey fur.

“What was your name?” he asked, smiling when the cat started purring loudly under Dean’s fingers. “Something weird-ass Russian. Maybe we can call you something nicer, what do you think?”

The cat opened its eyes and meowed at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Stop screaming or I’m leavin’ you here,” he warned and then huffed a laugh when the kitten jumped into his lap. “I’m only doing it for Charlie, you hear me? You take one step towards my bed and I’m kicking your ass out, you understand?”

He stood up then, hiding the gun back behind the waistband of his pants and holding the cat safely in his hands. He threw one last look over his shoulder, breathed out, and went back home.

The hall was empty and unlit, but there was a thin beam of light coming across the living room. Dean smiled to himself, let the cat go, and headed towards the kitchen.

Cas was standing in front of the window with his favourite orange mug in his hands. Dean could smell mint and he guessed Cas was probably drinking one of his teas, something he only did when he couldn’t sleep or when he was stressed.

Both reasons seemed plausible now.

“You weren’t in bed when I woke up,” Cas said without turning to him.

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I know. Sorry, I just… couldn’t sleep.”

Cas put down his tea and turned slowly. “Are you okay?”

Dean shrugged and didn’t answer. His legs took him closer to Cas and he reached around him to put the gun and the spindle down on the counter. Cas kept his eyes on his face, eyebrows furrowed, but he didn’t ask another question.

“C’mere,” Dean whispered.

He wrapped his arms around Cas’ shoulders and pulled him closer. Cas burrowed his face in the crook of Dean’s shoulder and breathed out loudly. Dean smiled when he felt his hot breath on his skin.

“We’ll be okay,” Cas murmured.

“We _are_ okay,” Dean grunted. His hand crept up and he let his fingers tangle into Cas’ dark locks. “‘M just feeling a bit jumpy. It’ll pass, I swear.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Cas said. His sneaked his arms around Dean’s waist and pulled him closer. “I understand.”

Dean’s lips touched Cas’ temple, slid slowly down the side of his face, brushed his cheek. “Let’s take a break from hunting.”

Cas huffed against Dean’s lips. “Yes, please,” he murmured, eyes sliding closed. Dean could feel his soft eyelashes against his own skin.

“I mean,” Dean pecked him on the lips, “we can hunt if something turns up somewhere real close.”

“But only if we hunt together,” Cas said, voice low and determined.

“Mhm.”

“I’m serious, Dean. I don’t want you hunting alone anymore. You’ve got me for a reason.”

Dean smirked, moving his hand so that it sneaked underneath Cas’ t-shirt and touched his belly. Cas’ breath hitched and his eyes flew open to stare at Dean’s lips.

“Yeah?” Dean nipped at Cas’ lower lip and pulled back when Cas tried to kiss him. “And what reason is that?”

Instead of answering, Cas pressed his lips against Dean’s and sighed into him. His hands rested against Dean’s hips and pushed him back towards the living room. Dean replied to his hungry kisses with the same amount of fervour, teeth scraping against Cas’ plush lips and tongue lapping over them soothingly.

“Couch,” Cas whispered hotly when they broke apart for a few seconds.

Dean moaned, cupped Cas’ head in his hands, and kissed him again, both of them moving clumsily towards the couch. The backs of Dean’s knees collided with the pillows and he sat down, eyes never leaving Cas’ face.

“Should we—” he started, uncertain, but Cas moved into his personal space and cupped his face with his warm hands.

“Please, don’t worry, my love,” Cas murmured and Dean felt a shiver run down his spine at the words. “It’s over. She’s gone. Everything’s fine.”

Dean nodded, closed his eyes. “Charlie?”

Cas kissed him sweetly on the lips. “Our son is safe and asleep in his room. I brought the monitor downstairs so we’ll hear if anything’s wrong. Dean, please, look at me.”

When he complied, Cas smiled down at him, his blue eyes dark and big and full of feeling. He caressed Dean’s face and pushed him gently down onto the couch.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured and lay down beside him.

Dean pulled him up, desperate to feel the weight of his body pressing him down into the couch. Cas sprawled over his chest, his mouth leaving a hot trail down Dean’s jaw line. Dean tilted his head to give him more space and then groaned.

Cas pulled away and lifted his head, worried. “What is it?”

Dean huffed a laugh and pointed to the gnome sitting on the coffee table right at his eye level.

“He’s staring at us,” he said.

Cas followed his gaze and chuckled. “Oh. Right. Should I—”

“Yeah, get rid of him. Please.”

Cas heaved himself up from the couch, grabbed the gnome, and disappeared from Dean’s line of sight for a moment. Dean took that opportunity to shuffle out of his pants and underwear and take off his t-shirt. When Cas came back, a bottle of lube in his hands, and saw him like that, he hummed contentedly and draped himself over Dean again, rewarding him with deep kisses and hot touches with his clever hands. He had Dean panting and arching off the couch in a matter of minutes. Dean gripped his shoulders, eyes scrunched, pleasure unfurling inside him from the place Cas’ fingers kept touching and spreading him open.

“Why do you still have your clothes on,” he panted and moaned when Cas found that one most sensitive spot inside him.

He stopped complaining shortly after that, too busy trying to keep himself from coming too soon. In the meantime, Cas finally got rid of his clothes as well and kissed praises and soothing whispers against his hot skin. Dean dug his fingertips into Cas’ back when he slid into him and kept him close enough to breathe heavily into Dean’s mouth. They soon found the perfect rhythm, with long, gentle rolls of their hips, hot lips against skin, fingers entwined, eyes locked onto each other as they neared the climax.

Dean came with his love’s name on his lips, his head thrown back and legs around Cas’ back. Cas whispered his love into Dean’s mouth and followed him after a few more thrusts of his hips.

They fell asleep on the couch, legs tangled, Cas’ arm thrown over Dean’s waist and his face hidden in Dean’s hair.

♡♡♡

A muffled sound jerked Dean awake and he sat up on the couch, blinking in the dark, eyes roaming around the room to find the source of the noise. Before he could do anything else, though, he felt Cas’ warmth behind his back, his gentle fingers pushing through his hair.

“I’ve got it,” Cas whispered against his ear and disappeared from the couch, the plaid blanket trailing after him as he tried to cover himself with it.

Only then did Dean realise the sounds were coming from the baby monitor placed on the coffee table. His heart tried jumping out of his chest at the thought of Charlie in danger and he cursed under his breath, ready to get to his feet and rush upstairs after Cas. He was just reaching for his discarded boxers when another sound came out of the monitor.

“ _Shh, it’s okay, turtledove_ ,” Cas said softly and Charlie’s crying stopped abruptly. Dean stared at the speaker as his pulse slowed gradually and his ears strained to hear Cas’ voice. “ _Papa’s here. Did you have a nightmare, baby?_ ”

Charlie didn’t answer, but Dean could hear his quiet fussing, rustling of the sheets, and then footsteps. Dean reached out, grabbed the monitor and turned it off, then quickly put on his clothes and sat back on couch, waiting.

Cas stepped into the dark living room with Charlie wrapped up in his arms. Wordlessly, Dean stood up and took his son while Cas dressed himself. Charlie was almost asleep again and Dean nuzzled the soft brown hair on his head while he waited for his husband to rearrange the pillows on the couch and lay down on it. When Cas threw the blanket over himself, lifted its corner and looked up, Dean smiled and stretched out beside him. Cas helped him maneuver Charlie onto the couch between them and watched as he tucked the blanket carefully over him.

Dean knew he would most probably wake up in the morning with cramps and stiff shoulders, but when Charlie snored softly into his chest and Cas buried his nose in the crook of Dean’s neck, he smiled to himself and drifted off to sleep without a single worry in his head.

♡♡♡

Sam Winchester wasn’t really surprised when no one answered the door.

He let his hand fall back and reached for the phone in his pocket instead. He hesitated for a moment when he saw the time illuminated on the screen. It was barely quarter past six in the morning, and the sun had just risen above the low roofs of the houses in the neighbourhood. Everything seemed peaceful, even birds quieted down a notch to let everyone sleep in a little longer on this brisk spring Sunday.

Having decided against calling his brother, Sam reached down to his duffel bag and, after a moment of rummaging through his clothes and toiletries, he fished out the spare key he’d received the same day Dean and Cas had moved in.

The key clicked and he went inside, peeking curiously around. As suspected, the house was as quiet as the neighbourhood. Sam wasn’t surprised—even back when they had still lived in the bunker, Cas had been the biggest sleepyhead in the mornings, often getting up around noon and only when Dean or Sam had finally decided to check up on him. After Dean and Cas had officially gotten together, Dean would often sleep in as well—Sam had never questioned it, trying to spare himself some last shreds of ignorance about his brother’s relationship.

Sam left the duffel on the floor and kicked off his shoes. He turned around towards the living room and stopped mid-step when a small grey smudge came out of the shadows of the hall.

“Oh.” Sam crouched down and outstretched his hand towards the tiny kitten lurking a few feet ahead of him. “Hi, there. What are you doing here?”

The kitten squeaked quietly, but then decided to be brave and came forward to butt its head against Sam’s hand. Sam smiled down at the animal.

“You live here? Did my brother finally let Cas adopt a cat?” he asked incredulously. The kitten didn’t answer him, of course, just stepped around him to sniff curiously at his duffel bag. Sam stood up, shook his head, and stepped into the living room, deciding to help himself to some morning coffee and wait for his hosts to wake up. He would ask about the cat later.

He froze as soon as he crossed the threshold.

The couch was occupied. Dean was lying on the edge of the seat, his arm hanging down, loose fingers scraping the fluffy carpet on the floor. Cas was tucked into the back of the couch. A grey pillow had fallen to the floor and Cas had his head on Dean’s shoulder instead. He was covered with a thick plaid blanket almost up to his ears. The youngest Winchester, Charlie, lay half-draped over Dean’s chest with one of his tiny hands gripping the blanket and Castiel’s hand covering his small pyjama-clad back.

All three of them were asleep.

Sam chuckled and shook his head with a wide grin stretched across his face. They looked surprisingly comfortable squished on that not-too-wide couch and Sam felt a pang of nostalgia when he shuffled silently to the kitchen. He didn’t get to see his brother and best friend as often as he’d been used to for all these years and sometimes he still missed them like hell. Especially now, when visiting Cas and Dean also meant seeing his nephew.

He did a double take when he noticed a small colourful gnome standing on the kitchen countertop. Frowning, he stepped closer and examined the creature. After all he’d heard from Dean, he was surprised to see one of them inside the house. Maybe something changed since they had talked last? He had told them about burning the kikimora doll and never heard from them again, so he’d gathered everything was okay, but why was the gnome here?

Concerned, Sam put it under his arm and went back to the living room. Stopping in front of the couch, he reached out to wake Dean but before he could even touch him, his brother blinked his eyes open and gasped loudly.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, hand flying up to rub at his eyes. “What the hell, Sam.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “It’s nice to see you, too.”

Dean groaned and stood up slowly, careful not to wake his family and to position Charlie safely on the couch. They both watched as the boy murmured something in his sleep and buried his face in Castiel’s chest.

Sam caught sight of Dean’s loving smile and gave him a moment before patting him on the shoulder. Dean looked at him and then nodded towards the kitchen.

“I didn’t wanna wake you,” Sam explained once they stopped by the coffee machine, “but then I found this.”

Dean glanced at the gnome in Sam’s hands and shrugged sleepily. “There’s only two of them left,” he murmured distractedly.

“Did you… kill them?”

Dean scratched his nose. “The kikimora did.”

“The kikimora?” Sam’s eyebrows rose again. “I thought you burned the doll?”

“We did. It didn’t work.”

Sam plopped down on the chair by the kitchen table. “What? Why didn’t you call me, Dean? What happened?”

Dean huffed a quiet laugh. “Long story, Sammy. Let me drink some coffee first and then we’ll talk. You want some?”

Sam nodded, eyes glued to the gnome’s wide eyes, rosy cheeks, and a hand covering his mouth in a silent expression of shock. It looked as if it had seen something that made him feel embarrassed and affronted. He started to wonder what it could have been, but then Dean’s loud curse jerked him out of his thoughts.

“Fuck, we’re out of coffee!”

[](http://imgur.com/0wNQxfd)  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting! Plase make sure to leave some praise for my lovely artist [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6628519) :)


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